


Hunger For Me

by TeamDamon



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Bisexual Peter Parker, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bottom Peter Parker, Daddy Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, MJ is a Good Bro, Older Man/Younger Man, Past Peter/MJ, Peter’s 22, Praise Kink, Sexting, Steve is 34, Tattoo Artist Steve Rogers, Top Steve Rogers, age gap, duh - Freeform, listen I stan MJ and I only hope to do her justice, nursing student Peter Parker, oh and, there will be massive amounts of sex from ch 2 on, what a legend, will update these disaster tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-10-29 14:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20798447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamDamon/pseuds/TeamDamon
Summary: “Mr. Parker?” asked a tall, blonde, heavily tattooed man in a dark blue tank and criminally well-fitted jeans. Peter looked up and somehow lost his grip on both his ID and the clipboard, sending both clattering to the floor as he stared dumbly at the incredibly muscular man. “Hi, I’m Steve R-““Oh shit,” Peter blurted at the exact moment the other man spoke, nearly tumbling out of his seat in his haste to recover the dropped items. A few feet away, MJ watched the disaster unfold and barely hid her snort. Then Peter jumped up to his feet and shoved his hand out to take the one that been offered to him. “Sorry, hi, yeah, I’m P- I’m, yeah, Peter Parker.”The man smiled in amusement and shook his hand. “Steve Rogers.”—Or the AU where college student Peter gets a tattoo from Steve and absolutely nothing goes according to plan (except for the tattoo itself).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello and welcome to my latest disaster of an AU :) just from the get go let me say - yes, the Peter I imagine here is Tom Holland’s Peter. Yes, he is aged up to 22. No, I don’t believe there is anything wrong with that. Yes, I am aware of the arguments to the contrary and have weighed them and have decided I do not agree. If this bothers you, don’t read. Keep scrolling. Don’t bother leaving negative comments because I literally could not care less and you’ll just be wasting your time and energy :) 
> 
> With that out of the way - this ship kinda?? Idk where it came from?? It just snuck up on me one day very recently and suddenly I was obsessed. Idk man, but this is what happened and I am hugely enjoying writing it. I hope a few of you will enjoy it as well!! Leave a comment and let me know :)

“You sure about this?”

Peter squared his shoulders and nodded, squinting up at the building standing before MJ and himself as well as the attractively-tattered sign above the door proclaiming _Brooklyn Ink_. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘course. What’s the worst that could happen?”

MJ side-eyed him. “You’re about to walk into a tattoo shop and you seriously just asked that question?”

Peter laughed nervously, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The lady I booked has great stuff on her Instagram. And what I want’s pretty simple - I really think it’ll be fine.” He paused and looked to his friend. “It’s gonna be fine, right?”

MJ shrugged. “If it’s not, there’s always laser tattoo removal. Or you could cover it up with a giant cat face or something.”

Peter nodded mindlessly, then furrowed his brows. “Why would I want a giant cat face on my chest?”

She narrowed her eyes right back at him. “Why would you want a giant spider on your chest?”

“... Touché. Okay,” he declared, stepping forward and reaching for the door. “Let’s do this.”

“Your funeral,” MJ said, following him inside. 

It was the second time that Peter had stepped into the immaculately clean and charmingly vintage little tattoo shop, the first time having been a week ago to set up the appointment. He’d walked in and spoken to a gorgeous tattoo artist named Wanda who had assured him that she could give him exactly what he wanted, and when she mentioned an appointment available on his birthday - well, it seemed written in the stars at that point. Peter Parker was turning 21 and getting his very first tattoo. 

But already the day had not gone quite according to plan. First he’d woken up to the sounds of a fight happening outside his window on the street, which really wasn’t too strange of an occurrence but was annoying all the same. Then Ned had come down with a particularly horrific flu, leaving him sitting out the day’s birthday festivities, and Peter just hoped it wasn’t a sign that he’d end up on a YouTube compilation somewhere  called _tattoos gone wrong!! Huge FAILS!!_ because that would really, really suck.  Really bad. 

As it was, he walked into the shop with a brave face and hesitated only slightly before making his way to the front counter, where a pretty redhead greeted him coolly. Her appearance was absolutely immaculate and she was covered in ink seemingly everywhere besides her face, though the makeup she wore was a work of art in itself. 

“Hi, I’m Peter Parker,” he squeaked out, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. “I have an appointment with Wanda at 3?”

“Wanda’s out sick today,” the woman replied, glancing at the computer before her as she she tapped at the keyboard with a few red-tipped nails. “Looks like your appointment’s with Steve now.”

Peter groaned inwardly. _Great_. He glanced at MJ and then back to the redhead before replying, “Oh. Well that’s - um, okay. So does that mean - could I maybe -“

“He’s the best,” she replied, seemingly some mixture of bored and vaguely amused. “He owns this shop, in fact, so don’t worry. You’re in good hands.”

He let out a breath of relief. His chances of a horrible result were even lower with a more seasoned artist, right? “Oh okay. Awesome.”

She quirked a small smile. “I’ll let him know you’re here. In the meantime,” she slid a clipboard across the glass counter. “Fill this out for us, please.”

Peter nodded and took the clipboard, glancing around behind him and then walking to the waiting area to sit down. The shop was quiet, only one other client present and getting worked on currently in the back, and Peter supposed that was a good thing. At least he wouldn’t be waiting for ages, freaking himself out even more than he already was. 

He filled out the paperwork as quickly as he could while MJ wandered the lobby, checking out the art on the walls and the shop’s best work on display. Peter managed to misspell his own name not once but twice, groaning under his breath as he tried to salvage it and wishing he wasn’t such a giant ball of nerves. But he also couldn’t really blame himself because he was about to get ink drilled into his chest with a needle, and if there was ever a valid reason to be nervous, he was confident that was one of them. 

He was copying down his ID number to the document when a deep, friendly voice coming from his right stole his attention. 

“Mr. Parker?” asked a tall, blonde, heavily tattooed man in a dark blue tank and criminally well-fitted jeans. Peter looked up and somehow lost his grip on both his ID and the clipboard, sending both clattering to the floor as he stared dumbly at the incredibly muscular man. “Hi, I’m Steve R-“

“Oh shit,” Peter blurted at the exact moment the other man spoke, nearly tumbling out of his seat in his haste to recover the dropped items. A few feet away, MJ watched the disaster unfold and barely hid her snort. Then Peter jumped up to his feet and shoved his hand out to take the one that been offered to him. “Sorry, hi, yeah, I’m P- I’m, yeah, Peter Parker.”

The man -  _Steve_ \- smiled in amusement and shook his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

Peter nodded, slowly and painfully dying on the inside. The guy was a walking wet dream, absolutely horrendously attractive, and if Peter hadn’t already been aware of his attraction to men at that point in his life then he’d have had his gay awakening right then and there. In fact, he was pretty sure he was having a second one just for the hell of it. “Hi.”

Steve then let go and took the clipboard from Peter’s other hand, turning and gesturing for him to follow. “Come on back and we’ll talk about what you wanna get done today.”

Peter turned and stared at MJ with wide, panicked eyes, and she smiled at him in a way that said  _you are so screwed _before following him back behind the counter. She’d promised to be there to hold his hand if he needed it, and Peter was pretty sure he definitely would now, if only to keep from fainting from the shop owner’s raw sex appeal. 

_Oh God, _Peter realized with sudden abject horror. This guy was gonna touch him! He had to take his shirt off and lay back in front of him!  _Oh no oh no oh no_ -

“Go on and have a seat here,” Steve gestured to his work station, “and I’ll be right back.”

Peter nodded dizzily and sat down in the big chair that kinda reminded him of a medical exam table, looking at MJ and whispering once Steve was out of earshot, “I can’t do this.”

“Oh come on,” MJ whispered back, not thinking twice about moving an empty seat from an unused station to sit next to him. “You’ve been talking about this tattoo for years - you never shut up about wanting it.”

“Not the tattoo, I want the tattoo,” he explained, whispers growing harsher. “It’s him I can’t do!”

MJ smirked. “You sure about that because you kinda definitely look like you wanna do him.”

Peter’s face grew painfully red and he opened his mouth to whisper-yell at her before Steve interrupted. “Okay, so, I talked to Wanda and - are you okay? You look flushed.”

Peter closed his eyes and wished for death. “No, I’m fine,” he replied unconvincingly as Steve took a seat not far from him. “Just uh... nervous, you know?”

“I do,” Steve nodded understandingly. “It’s all right. Everybody’s nervous their first time.”

MJ’s responding snort wasn’t subtle, nor was it a sound she had any hope to contain. Both Peter and Steve’s eyes flew to her, Peter screaming wordlessly at her through his expression alone, but Steve had the grace to ignore MJ’s unspoken innuendo and get back to business. 

“And at any point if you change your mind or you need to take a break, anything like that, just let me know okay?” Steve added, expression earnest. Peter nodded, entranced by the blue of Steve’s eyes and the strength of his jaw visible despite the perfect and full beard on it. “So Wanda told me what you wanted and gave me her sketch, and I really like what she did but I drew one of my own and thought you could decide which one you like best. Either way’s fine with me.”

Steve then showed both sketches to Peter,and Peter was struck by the differences between them. Wanda had based her sketch off of one that Peter had made himself and showed her, and hers was very clean and precise. But Steve’s was more jagged and rough in a good way, the spider a bit more menacing and undeniably badass compared to Wanda’s. And while Peter still thought Wanda’s was beautiful, he was instantly drawn more to Steve’s. 

“That one,” he nodded, tapping his finger on the paper. “I love that. Its perfect.”

“You’re sure?” Steve asked, eyes serious. “No going back once it’s done.”

“What do you think, MJ?” Peter asked, watching as she leaned over to peer at the sketches. 

“Definitely that one,” she agreed, pointing to Steve’s. “That’s one sexy spider.”

Peter laughed - nerves making the pitch embarrassingly higher than usual - and Steve grinned and said, “All right. Well then let me finish getting set up and we’ll get started. Can I get either one of you a drink?”

MJ shook her head and Peter admitted, “Pretty sure I’d throw up if I tried to drink anything right now.”

Steve chuckled, sliding his stool back by a foot or so and grabbing supplies near the bottom of his station. “It’s really not so bad. Obviously everyone has different levels of pain tolerance but the fear of the unknown is always worse than the real thing. Once we get started, it’ll get better.” He then paused and shrugged. “Or you’ll puke or pass out or both. Either way, I’m gonna take care of you, I promise.”

Somehow, that really did help put Peter at ease. He smiled in reply and then sat back and listened as MJ asked Steve if he got a lot of pukers and fainters, and the chatter helped soothe his battered nerves too. Steve moved about with the ease of a man who did this all day every day and knew exactly what he was doing, his confidence palpable, and all he was doing was getting his equipment ready and laying out all the supplies he’d need. 

Peter was so strangely enthralled by it all that it caught him by surprise when Steve pulled on a pair of gloves and told him, “All right, shirt off.”

Peter stared at him like a deer in headlights for several agonizingly long seconds before he snapped out of it. “Oh. Right. Because I’m - chest tattoo. Right.” He sat up straighter and tried to ignore the incredibly amused look on Steve’s face, looking at MJ instead as he forced himself to shed the shirt. He tossed it at her after, ignoring her protests and trying to appear casual and at ease as he sat back, pretending to be totally cool with being half naked in front of the hottest human being he’d ever laid eyes on. 

“How long have you two been together?” Steve asked conversationally, to which Peter’s eyes widened and MJ made a face. 

“We’re just friends,” she explained helpfully. “We dated in high school for awhile but we’re better off as friends.”

“Ah. That’s great,” Steve nodded in reply. “Really. I know a lot of people a lot older than you guys who aren’t mature enough to stay friends with an ex.”

“Yeah. Well we were friends first,” MJ noted, giving Peter an affectionate glance. “He’s stuck with me whether he likes it or not.”

Peter smiled at her, warmed by her words until Steve wrecked his momentary peace by asking, “All right, show me where you want it?”

Peter gulped and directed Steve to his right pec, where Steve then carefully laid the stencil and wet it to create an outline. After he peeled the paper away he handed Peter a mirror to check the placement, and once Peter approved it... there was nothing left to do but get down to business. 

His anxiety spiking to an all time high, everything got a bit fuzzy and hazy as Steve finished up his prep and fired up his tattoo machine, getting into position at Peter’s side. Peter didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Steve gently touched his arm and said, “You okay, kid?”

Peter nodded immediately. “Mhm. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Steve took him at his word, nodding back. “Okay. I’m gonna start slow, with just one short line here on the first leg, and we’ll see how you do with that. That sound good?”

Peter nodded his consent, then closed his eyes at the sound of the machine buzzing to life. 

“All right. One... two... three.”

Then there was pressure and a sting, followed by a shiver that Peter felt race through his skin. It was over as quickly as it began, and he cracked an eye open to find Steve smiling at him. 

“.... That’s it?” Peter asked, relief washing through his entire body and instantly deflating his raging anxiety. 

“That’s it,” Steve confirmed. “You ready for more?”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, body relaxing and color returning to his previously pale cheeks. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Good boy,” Steve replied stunningly casually, and Peter had no time to react to that particular term and die properly inside before the needle was back on his skin and the resulting pain serving as a welcome distraction. It was far easier dealing with that than with Steve and his insanely pretty face, deliciously deep voice, and completely unfair word choices. 

Peter’s eyes drifted to MJ who immediately grinned and mouthed  _good_ _boy_. Peter clenched his jaw and shook his head at her in a way that he thought was subtle but didn’t pass Steve’s notice. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, glancing up as he wiped excess ink from Peter’s chest. 

This man was so damn  attentive . “Yeah, sorry.”

“ So,” Steve began easily, “what do you do, Peter Parker?”

“I’m in nursing school right now, work part time on the side wherever I can,” Peter replied, appreciating the distraction. 

“My mom was a nurse,” Steve replied, lips curling up into a smile though his eyes were hyperfocused on his work. “Such an important line of work. I have a lot of respect for nurses.”

“Oh me too, for sure,” Peter agreed. “It actually took me a long time to figure out what to go to school for ‘cause I’m pretty good at different things, but... I really just wanna help people. Seemed like the best way to do that.”

“That’s awesome,” Steve replied sincerely. “Sounds like you’re in it for the right reasons. And that’ll make you one of the good ones.”

“I hope so,” Peter replied, looking down at his chest as Steve pulled the needle away and wiped more excess ink off. “Wow. That seriously doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would.”

“Like I said,” Steve smirked up at him briefly. “The fear is always much worse than the real thing.”

Peter eyed Steve’s arms and shoulders, covered in elaborate and gorgeous ink, and noted as Steve got back to work, “Yeah, I can tell it doesn’t bother you much.”

Steve chuckled. “Well, some areas hurt more than others. But yeah, it typically doesn’t bother me much. Sometimes it even feels kinda good.”

Peter’s eyes flew to MJ and he just knew he was blushing like an idiot. Why was that so hot? 

“Kinky,” MJ remarked, much to Peter’s horror. 

Steve’s lips quirked but he kept his eyes on his work. “Mostly I’m just used to it. Pain is one of those inevitable things in life. Helps to work with it than to run with it. My experience, anyway.”

Peter watched as the ink bled into his skin, fascinated by it and by the man doing it. “That’s deep.”

Steve wiped away the excess and gave a small shrug before starting on the third leg. “I was sick a lot as a kid. Weighed next to nothing, couldn’t breathe, caught almost everything you can imagine. Me and pain go way back. So tattoos were kind of a way for me to reclaim parts of myself, have something to show for the pain, if that makes sense.”

Peter stared at him, at the furrow of his brow as he worked, and didn’t even realize how heart-eyed he was as he replied, “It does.”

“You’re the last guy I’d peg as a runt,” MJ piped up, eyeing Steve’s rather massive shoulders and general status as a specimen. “What’s your secret? Kale and protein shakes? Massive amounts of steroids?”

That made Steve chuckle and glance her way. “Let’s go with a late growth spurt and hard work, plus modern medicine.”

MJ nodded. “So kale and protein shakes.”

“And a lot of chicken breasts,” Steve replied before setting the needle back to Peter’s skin. 

MJ made a face. “Gross.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s not so bad. Besides, I won’t pretend I don’t sit down and inhale a gallon of ice cream every now and then.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “All at once?”

Steve glanced up. “All at once.”

“I did that once, ate a whole gallon of cookie dough ice cream during a sleepover in 8th grade. Ending up barfing all over my friend’s bed at 2 AM.”

Though MJ seemed absolutely mystified as to why Peter would share  that story with Mr. Sexiest Man Alive, Steve laughed and didn’t even blink. “Well I guess sometimes we gotta learn our limits the hard way.”

“Yeah. Got called Peter Puker for like three months afterwards.”

“I prefer Penis Parker,” MJ opined. “By far your best nickname from school.”

Peter smiled at her sweetly. “I  will kill you later, MJ.” She smiled back even more sweetly and flipped him off, and Steve glanced between the two of them and chuckled. Apparently he found them cute rather than annoying, which Peter thanked his lucky stars for. He knew it was silly but some part of him wanted to impress this man somehow, despite how nonsensical it was, and he just couldn’t help it. 

Conversation was blessedly light and easy for the rest of the session, and Peter was impressed by how quick but precise Steve was with his work. He double and triple checked each stroke of ink, making sure that it was all perfect and up to his standards, and by the time that he decided that he was finished, Peter’s excitement was bubbling up quick. 

He finally had his first tattoo, and holy crap it was  _badass_.

“Let’s go look at it in the full length mirror,” Steve suggested, setting his tools aside and sliding off his gloves. “Lighting’s better and you’ll really see all the details.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed happily, hopping up to his feet and following after Steve like a particularly giddy puppy. The mirror wasn’t far away, and when Peter stood in front of it and stared at the brand new tat in all its glory, he grinned widely and exclaimed, “Holy shit, I love it!”

Steve stood behind him, all but towering over him as he grinned and admired his own handiwork. “It suits you. It’s fuckin’ hot.”

“Yeah it is,” Peter agreed mindlessly before his brain screeched to a sudden halt. Did... did Steve just... indirectly (or actually pretty damn directly) just call Peter hot or - 

“Your four o’clock’s here,” the redhead at the front desk called back to Steve, and just like that the moment was over. 

“Let’s get you bandaged up and then I’ll meet you up front, okay?” Steve said with a friendly pat to Peter’s bare shoulder. 

“Okay,” Peter nodded, falling into step with him and feeling half-drunk from the combination of adrenaline and whatever  that had been. But he must have misunderstood, or maybe Steve was just like that with everybody and that’s partially why his shop was so successful. 

After Peter redressed Steve gave Peter his aftercare instructions and told him what to expect as far as healing and what to keep an eye out for, and encouraged him to call or come in if he had any further questions. Peter nodded in response to everything, and when Steve was finished he looked Peter over and reached out to shake his hand again. 

“Thanks for coming in today. I hope you enjoy your new ink.”

Peter smiled up at him a bit dreamily, struck once again by those blue eyes and pink lips and ugh just everything, shaking his hand and replying, “I will, I love it. Thank you so much for everything.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Steve smiled back, pulling back his hand and nodding to MJ and then to Peter. “Enjoy the rest of your birthday, Peter.”

Then he turned around and winked at Peter over his shoulder as he walked away.  _Winked_ . Fucking winked. 

Peter gulped, staring and watching Steve until he disappeared into the back office. That was when MJ snapped her fingers directly in Peter’s face and said, “Hey, loverboy. You gotta pay up now.”

“Oh right, right,” Peter nodded, groping at his pockets in search of his wallet as he and MJ made their way back to the front desk. His legs felt wobbly and his hands were shaky and sweaty and he knew it had absolutely nothing to do with the tattoo and everything about the man who’d given it to him. 

He left Steve a generous tip and then walked out of Brooklyn Ink a bit more broke but a lot gayer and hornier than he’d been before he walked in, or at least that was how it felt. The second the doors shut behind him MJ took one look at him and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face scream ‘top me’ as much as I have in the last hour, and that’s saying something. Because your face is usually screaming that anyway, depending on the time of day and what we’re doing.”

Peter looked at MJ and deadpanned, “Why am I friends with you?”

She tossed an arm around his shoulder. “Because you love me. Now come on, birthday boy,” she said as she dragged him down the street, “there’s a happy hour with your name on it.”

He cast one last look upon the tattoo shop before letting her steer him towards a nearby bar, wondering how long it would take for his brain to calm down and stop thinking about the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen in his life. 

The answer, unfortunately, ended up being pretty much never. 

—

Exactly one week later, Peter found himself back in Brooklyn and walking directly towards the scene of the crime, one side of his brain screaming at him and demanding to know what the hell he was doing and the other side putting one foot in front of the other, telling him to keep moving and go back to Brooklyn Ink the way he kinda desperately wanted to. Even though he had no real reason to visit the shop again. 

Except, well, his tattoo _was_ pretty itchy. And Steve had said it would be and to ignore it, but it was  really itchy. And peeling like a bad sunburn. And nobody could fault him for visiting his tattoo artist to just double check that everything was healing properly, right? It was the responsible thing to do, actually. It was just Peter being an adult and looking after his health. 

Never mind that he just wanted an excuse to see the guy again. That was - it was besides the point, he reasoned with himself as his feet took him closer and closer to the shop. Steve’s unbearably intense attractiveness was just an interesting sidenote to the whole thing, that was all. 

That logic kept Peter going until he finally reached the shop, at which point he promptly freaked out and lost all of his nerve. He was being ridiculous, he decided as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, shaking his head at himself as he turned away from the front doors only to then immediately smack face first into the broadest chest he’d ever encountered in real life. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t - Peter?”

Peter looked up and immediately felt his heart drop into his stomach and every alarm bell in his brain ring at top volume. “St - Mr. Rogers,” he squeaked at an embarrassingly high pitch. “Hi.”

“Hey,” the older man smiled, looking every bit as delicious as he had the week prior. Today he was in jeans and a white t-shirt that was at least two sizes too small, his blonde hair windswept and perfect, and he was holding a cup of coffee that was positively dwarfed in his large hand. “What brings you back here?”

“Oh, I -“  _ugh oh God oh shit_ “ - I um, well I was kinda - everything’s fine, it’s just my tattoo’s been really itchy and peely and I know you said that was normal and so does Google but since this is my first one I don’t really know when I should start worrying so I figured I could just come by here and you could look at it and see if it looks okay, unless you’re busy or something which would be totally fine and I’d understand and -“

Steve, both amused and seemingly impressed by how much Peter could say without taking a single breath, reached out and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, immediately hushing him. “Breathe. I can definitely take a look at it, it’s no problem.”

Peter exhaled and nodded, feeling a little dizzy but in an almost pleasant way. “Okay. Yeah, awesome, thanks.”

Steve paused just long enough to grin slightly at him before walking ahead, telling him to follow. Peter did, of course, feeling both giddy and mildly terrified as he walked into Brooklyn Ink for the second time. 

Today the shop was far more busy. Multiple people were waiting in the lobby and as Steve led Peter back behind the counter, he counted three tattoo artists working on clients. He saw the redhead woman from the front counter inking someone up, a recovered Wanda working on an intricate sleeve, and a man - oh God, he had long dark hair and a jaw that could cut glass and why the hell was this place so full of beautiful people?? - glancing up from his own client to nod to Steve in a silent greeting. Steve nodded back, then directed Peter to take a seat at the same workstation he’d been tattooed at a week ago. 

Steve left Peter alone only long enough to wash his hands, and then he was back and sitting at his side as he said, “All right, let’s see it.”

Peter swallowed down a lump of self-consciousness and then reached down to pull his hoodie up to his neck. Steve leaned closer, examining the healing tattoo with furrowed brows and touching gently just beneath it, which made Peter gulp again for an entirely different reason. 

“It actually looks like it’s healing perfectly,” Steve said, letting his fingers linger for longer than what seemed necessary. It didn’t help that his scent was flooding Peter’s nose and making him want to lean in and breathe deeper to figure out exactly what it was, cologne or soap or what. “It’s gonna itch like hell but you gotta ignore it and just keep moisturizing. You’re applying lotion regularly, right?”

Peter nodded quickly. “Yep. Like four times a day, just to be on the safe side.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, it looks great. Zero reasons for concern.” Then he reached up and, to Peter’s surprise, tugged his hoodie back down himself to cover Peter back up.“You’re taking great care of it.”

Peter smiled brightly, the blush on his cheeks unavoidable. “Awesome! Yeah, I just, I wasn’t sure since this is my first one and I don’t really know what I’m doing, and Google - well, you know how Google is.”

“Yeah, stay as far away from Google as you can,” Steve agreed before pausing and seeming to ponder something. He eyed Peter and licked his lips - Peter was pretty sure he’d have gotten pregnant from it had he owned a uterus - and then asked, “Can I see your phone?”

Peter reached into his pocket and handed it over on autopilot, watching as Steve took it and unlocked it. He tapped at the screen and swiped once or twice before handing it back over just a moment later, telling him, “That’s my number. Feel free to call or text me if you have any more questions. I’d much rather you do that than Google shit and freak yourself out.”

Peter stared down at the new contact Steve had created for himself -  Steve Rogers followed by a needle emoji - and Peter’s stomach flip-flopped. “Oh . Okay, great, thanks. That’s - yeah, thanks.” He looked up and Steve tilted his head a bit as he smiled back at him, and Peter wasn’t sure why it made him blush harder and squirm but... God it did. 

“No problem,” Steve murmured, still wearing that peculiar little smirk. Then he jerked his head towards the door. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out.”

The walk to the door passed by terribly quickly, but Peter couldn’t help but smile when Steve opened the door and held it for him to walk through. 

“Thanks for coming in,” Steve nodded to him. “Remember, text me if you have any questions.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Rogers,” Peter said as he walked through the open door. 

“Call me Steve.”

Peter looked back and felt his cheeks grow miserably hotter when their eyes met. “Okay. Thanks, Steve.”

Steve winked -  _ugh again with the winking! _ \- and dropped his arm to let the door swing shut. “See you around, kid.”

Peter watched the door click shut and stared for way too long before getting himself into gear and remembering how to walk properly. He headed the wrong way at first, walking an entire half block before realizing it and turning around, cursing himself for turning so helplessly stupid under the influence of Steve Rogers. 

And now he had his number. His personal cell number. And Steve had genuinely encouraged him to text him if he wanted to. 

_Oh God_. This wasn’t gonna end well. 

—

_One week later_

“So, Peter,” Ned asked after taking the beer that Peter had offered him, “is it true you got a boner while you were getting your tattoo?”

Peter choked on his own beer and nearly catapulted himself off the couch. “What?! No! Who told you-“

“Oh Parker, relax!” MJ rolled her eyes, kicking Peter’s leg slightly from the arm of the couch she was leaning against. “I was teasing. You basically did though. Have you texted him yet?”

Peter’s head swiveled around to her, his eyes somehow growing even bigger. “ _No_! Why would I?!”

“Um, because you wanna ride him into the sunset and because I bet he’d let you?”

Peter blinked, doing a flawless and unintentional impression of the blinking white guy meme. “Okay, MJ, are you delusional? Should I call a doctor? Or an ambulance? Are you -“

MJ cut him off by grabbing his phone, which had been laying on the couch between them next to his thigh. She typed in his password and unlocked it, almost immediately whooping, “When did you take this?!”

Peter didn’t even need to ask to know exactly what it was MJ had found, his face reddening and hand darting out to snatch the phone back. “Don’t make fun of me! I had just left the gym!”

She jerked the phone away, holding it high over her face. “I can tell, Jesus, veins much?”

“MJ, I swear to God -“

“What is it?” Ned asked, half-climbing over Peter trying to get a look. “Show me, MJ!”

MJ turned the phone around and wolf-whistled as she showed Ned the shirtless selfie that Peter had snapped post-workout the day prior. It made for an effective thirst trap, Peter’s hard earned abs on display and his hair attractively ruffled and falling into his forehead, expression molded into his best smolder. “Abs for days, amirite?”

“Whoa!” Ned grinned, clapping Peter on the shoulder as he covered his face and sunk into the couch. “Damn, that gym membership’s sure paying off.”

Peter groaned into his hands. “I hate you both.”

“You love us and you know it,” MJ replied just before pausing and looking at Ned, her entire face brightened with what was clearly a new and brilliant idea. Ned cocked his head at her curiously, and she grinned at him devilishly as she tapped quickly at the screen and then... began typing. “And you’re gonna love me a lot more in a few minutes.”

Peter rubbed at his eyes. “Mhm, sure.” Then he blinked twice and suddenly seemed to fully process her words, head all but spinning her way as he blurted, “Wait, what does that mean?!”

Her responding grin was utterly terrifying. “.... Sent.”

It was then that Peter panicked and launched himself at MJ, but she simply tossed the phone right into his chest and ducked out of the way, somehow gracefully rolling on to the floor wearing a triumphant smile all the while. 

“Sent what?” Peter demanded, fumbling with the phone and his brain shooting off in ten million different directions, all of them equally horrid. “What did you - what did...”

Time grinding to an agonizing halt, Peter’s eyes grew comically large as he pulled up his text messaging app and saw what MJ had done. His stomach fell out of his body, unpleasant heat and panic flooding his head as the room began to spin. 

MJ had sent Peter’s self-indulgent half-naked pic to none other than Steve Rogers, with the equally vexing caption of  _how am I looking?_

Oh. Oh  _no. No no no no no _ -

“MJ,” Peter groaned weakly, looking at her like she’d just run over his childhood pet. “_Why_?”

“Dude,” she rolled her eyes as she sat herself back down on the couch, “I’m trying to get you laid. It’s not that serious.”

“Yes it is!” Peter exclaimed, turning to Ned for backup and shoving the text into his face. “Ned, tell her! Tell her how horrible this is!”

Ned eyed the text, then looked back and forth between Peter and MJ before shrugging and half-smiling, “I mean... it’s not that bad?”

“ It’s not that \- fuck!” Peter exclaimed, hopping up to his feet and pacing anxiously while clutching his phone in a white-knuckled grip. “This is - I don’t even know if he likes guys! And if he does, he’s not gonna like me anyway, so what’s even the point in -“

MJ made a face. “Peter, you’re a snack. A whole one. A whole entire snacc, with two c’s.”

Peter flailed his arms wildly. “And he’s a five course meal at a restaurant I could never afford!”

She didn’t flinch. “He was flirting with you.”

“No he wasn’t.”

“Yes he was.”

“ _No he wasn’t.”_

_ “Yes he was.” _

Peter turned to Ned and yelled, “Ned, tell her he wasn’t flirting with me!”

“I was... here... dying a slow and painful death that day, so...” Ned shrugged helplessly. 

Peter cursed the very existence of the influenza virus and turned back to MJ. “Listen, the point is -“

His phone vibrated in his hand, and he dropped it to the floor like it’d burned him. MJ immediately dove for it, prompting Peter to scream like a little girl and Ned spill his beer all over his nice new polo. Peter jumped on MJ and the two wrestled like cocaine-fueled toddlers until Peter at last reigned supreme, phone in hand as he got back up to his feet and hurriedly unlocked it to discover the cause of the vibration. 

Of course, nothing could have prepared him for the five simple words in the new text that awaited him. 

_ You look damn good, kid.  _

Peter reread the text 8 times until it sunk in that it was real and actually from Steve and that Steve had actually typed those words and actually sent them to Peter. He slowly stepped backwards and then fell back onto the couch, staring at the screen in awe as Ned and MJ leaned in over each shoulder to peer at it with him. 

Ned gasped. “Holy shit.”

MJ’s jaw hit the floor. “Holy  _fuck_.”

Peter swallowed hard and stuttered over his words. “I don’t - how - what - am I hallucinating? Ned, did you put NyQuil in the beer again?”

Ned shook his head. “Nope, never again after The Incident.”

Peter side-eyed MJ. “Did you fake this somehow? Like this isn’t actually you texting me and pretending to be him?”

MJ held up both hands and shook her head, expression sincere for the first time all night. “No. I promise, all I did was send the selfie. That text back is all him.”

Knowing damn well when she was being serious and when she wasn’t, Peter believed her and let his eyes drift back to the screen. “ _Fuck_ .”

Ned nodded. “You can say that again.”

MJ then watched as Peter sat there, unmoving, seemingly frozen where he sat. “Are you gonna answer him?”

Peter slowly turned to face her in horror. “What am I supposed to say?!  _Gee thanks for the compliment, Tattoo Daddy, you’re a real nice guy!”_

Ned giggled. “Tattoo Daddy.”

MJ rolled her eyes and held out her hand. “Do I have to do everything for you? Because I’m not sucking his dick for you, too. I draw the line there.”

Peter’s face grew even more red and, in a moment of sheer madness, he dropped the phone into her palm. He almost snatched it back immediately, but then he shoved his fist against his mouth to keep himself still as MJ debated a proper response. 

Then she smirked and started typing, and Peter’s anxiety went through the roof. The second she sent the message, Peter yanked the phone back and read it with frantic eyes. 

_Thanks, Tattoo Daddy. Wanna look good for you ;) _

Peter groaned and dropped his head back. “Really, MJ?”

She shot him a half-glare. “You asked for my help, dude. You can take it or leave it.”

Ned leaned over Peter’s shoulder and giggled. “Ha. Tattoo Daddy.”

Peter sighed. “That’s the second time you’ve giggled about that, Ned.”

“It’s a funny name!”

Peter shook his head and stared off into space, dreading Steve’s reply. “This is the worst. He’s gonna think I’m the thirstiest idiot on the planet. Like beyond thirsty - more like kidneys about to shut down levels of dehydration.”

MJ rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic it physically hurts.”

“Yeah, well -“

Peter’s phone buzzed, and all three of them froze and peered at the screen. 

_Ha. You been drinking, pal_?

MJ snatched the phone back and ran off, typing a reply before Peter could stop her. He jumped to his feet to chase after her, squealing her name as he tripped and fell but quickly recovered and chased her into his tiny little kitchen. But by that point the deed was done, and she willingly handed the phone over with a blinding smile. 

_A little bit_, was her reply.  _Just enough to get the nerve up to text you_.

“And with that,” she announced, “I’m out. See you later, Spiderboy.”

Peter blinked. “Wh - huh?! You can’t leave now!”

“Some of us have class in the morning,” MJ replied as she grabbed her purse and her hoodie. “Besides, you’ll be fine. I got you all set up - now all you gotta do is not flop.”

“I’m _gonna_ flop. I’m  gonna, MJ.”

She shrugged. “Then have Ned help you.”

They both glanced to Ned only to find him suddenly passed out and snoring away on the couch. 

MJ furrowed her brows. “How many beers did he have?”

“Two.”

“Nice. His tolerance is getting better. Anyway,” she turned and headed for the door. “Let me know how it goes. See if he’ll send you a dick pic.”

Peter’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “ MJ \- “

She tossed him another smile as she sashayed into the hallway. “You’re welcome, by the way!”

Then the door slammed shut, and Peter was left alone with just his phone and enough anxiety to knock out an elephant for company. 

He swallowed hard. “I’m gonna die.”

Instead of dying, however, he tucked Ned in with a blanket and a bottle of water within arm’s reach, locking the door and turning off the lights before retreating to his room. He brushed his teeth and washed his face before stripping off his shirt and collapsing into bed, eyes glueing to his phone immediately only to find that Steve hadn’t responded. 

It had been ten minutes. Nearly fifteen, actually. 

Oh no, Peter thought as he stared at the phone in increasing horror. What if Steve was repulsed? What if he never answered? What if he’d read the last message and rolled his eyes, mumbled something about annoying drunk kids and blocked his number?! 

This was bad. This was terrible. He needed to fix this. 

_Hey, I’m really sorry about all those texts _, he began typing before he could stop himself.  _My friend actually sent them all. I didn’t mean to bother you I swear. _

MJ was gonna kill him for undoing all of her hard work, but at this point it didn’t matter. It simply had to be done. 

Surprisingly, Steve began typing a reply almost instantly. His text bubble appeared and disappeared several times before his reply finally popped up. 

_Didn’t really seem like your style, so I figured something was up. Figured you were just drunk. No need to apologize._

Peter exhaled with overwhelming relief, closing his eyes for a minute and thanking not only God but also Jesus before composing a grateful reply. But then another text from Steve interrupted him and left him speechless. 

_For what it’s worth, though, I meant what I said. You do look damn good. I’m impressed_.

Peter’s mind went blank. He blinked and stared and felt his stomach mimic a rollercoaster as he tried to figure out what on earth he could possibly say to that. 

_Thanks_, he eventually managed to type.  _I don’t normally send selfies like that to people I just met, or anyone really_

He regretted it the instant he sent it.  _Ugh. __Way to make yourself look even more like a dweeb, Penis Parker_. 

But Steve’s next text worked wonders in putting his mind at ease. 

_Neither do I. Not usually my style either __._ Then, seconds later, another text:  _Though sometimes I might make an exception for the right person. _

That was... that was an offer, right? He was flirting - right? Peter reread the two texts roughly a million times before deciding to go with his gut and reply,  _must be nice to be that person_. 

Then he waited. And waited. And waited some more. Thirteen agonizingly long minutes passed, during which Peter debated where Aunt May would bury him once he inevitably died as a result of this entire wretched experience, but then his phone lit up and his heart stopped beating for a fleeting second. 

It was a picture. A picture of Steve, shirtless, in what appeared to be his bathroom mirror, wearing the world’s lowest-slung gray sweatpants ever in the history of activewear. The caption read,  _You tell me how nice it is_.

And that was the moment Peter Parker met his demise. 

Steve was, in a word, perfect. Covered in gorgeous, intricate tattoos that wove together and created an incredible work of art all over his skin, Steve was pale and strong and  huge underneath all that ink. His waist was unbelievably tiny, pecs unbelievably big, and his face - _God, his __ face. _He knew damn well how good he looked and what he was doing, that much was obvious thanks to the slight grin on his pink lips. Then throw in that perfectly messy blonde hair on top of his head, and, well... Peter couldn’t really help his body’s instant response to the mouth-watering picture. 

For a moment, Peter dropped his phone to the bed and grabbed a pillow, covering his face with it and whimpering into it. Then he flung it aside and picked the phone back up, taking a deep breath and opening the phone only to find another text from Steve. 

_ All right, Queens? _

“Nope,” Peter shook his head, answering out loud and into the void. “Not all right. Not okay. Death is imminent.”

_Yeah I’m fine, besides being dead now _, he replied.  _Can’t complain about the cause of death tho. Good way to go .  10/10 would recommend. _

Steve’s reply came fairly fast, a laughing emoji followed by,  _you’re adorable_. 

Peter’s cheeks flushed, though he wasn’t sure he wanted Steve to think of him as  adorable. He thought puppies and babies and bunnies were adorable, and that was so not the vibe that he wanted to project. 

_You should get some sleep_, Steve sent next.  _It’s late and you’re probably gonna be hung over in the morning. _

Peter whined out loud. The constant pulsing throb between his legs that he’d been dealing with ever since Steve had sent that selfie made sleep sound like the worst thing possible at that moment, and he figured his best bet was just saying so. 

_No way I can sleep now after you sent that pic and got me all wound up_

It was a risk, he knew, but on the other hand... it wasn’t like this was just a friendly conversation with an acquaintance. They’d both been pretty clear from the get go, and there really wasn’t any point in beating around the bush. 

No seat belts , he told himself. We die like men. 

Then his phone buzzed. 

_Is that so? _

Peter nodded out of habit, knowing full well Steve couldn’t see him.  _Yes, sir. _

Steve’s text bubble appeared and disappeared a few times before two simple words came through next.  _Show me._

That alone was almost enough to set him off. Heart racing like crazy and breaths ragged, Peter kicked his blanket off and looked down at his lap, wondering how best to do this. The idea of sending an actual full on dick pic was unbearable, so he decided on the next best thing and gripped himself through his pants, showing how hard he was, and snapped a pic of that. Before he could chicken out he sent it off and fought the urge to hide under the covers and never come back out. 

Right as he was about to truly freak out, Steve sent three new texts all in a row. 

_Fuck. _

_Damn, kid. _

_Such a tease. _

Peter grinned, reaching down with his free hand to lazily stroke himself through his pants as he replied,  _Can’t show all my cards just yet._

_Smart boy,_ Steve replied.  _Gotta leave me wanting more, huh?_

The idea of Steve actually wanting more, wanting to see all of him... it was far more potent than any drug Peter had ever taken a hit of. Finding it hard to believe, he replied,  _do you_?

Steve’s answer was swift.  _ You really think I’d be up this late flirting with you like this if I didn’t?_

“ _Oh my God_,” Peter breathed, laying his phone down on his chest for a moment as he attempted to regather his wits. This was insane and amazing and holy shit what was he even gonna say next?!

Then his phone vibrated again. 

_If I told you half the things I wanna do to you, _Steve said,  _you’d come in your pants without a single touch. I promise you that. _

Peter’s jaw dropped. Nobody had ever spoken to him like this before, let alone someone of Steve’s caliber. He reread the message over and over, dick giving excited little jumps each time, and he wished he knew what the hell to say back but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of anything besides a particularly impassioned keysmash and he was definitely not sending that. 

_But I’d rather show you than tell you. If you’d let me. _

And that was the second time that Peter Parker met his demise. 

He dropped his phone square on his face upon reading those words, letting out a small squeal of pain before picking the phone back up and typing his reply at a nearly inhuman speed. 

_I’d definitely let you. Omg. Please . _

Steve sent a winky emoji back along with,  _Are you free Thursday night ?_

Besides studying which could fucking wait, Peter was indeed free so he replied,  _Yeah Thursday works. _

_Good_,  Steve replied. _I’ll send an Uber to pick you up. In the meantime, might wanna give yourself a hand and get some sleep. You’ll wanna be well rested by the time Thursday rolls around. _

Peter gulped. How was this even real?! Things like this didn’t happen to him. Men like Steve were never attracted to him, at least as far as he knew, so how the hell was he supposed to handle this without spontaneously combusting and dying?!

_Yes sir_, he finally managed to reply.  _Sounds good. _

Steve’s last text of the night was one that nearly had Peter seeing stars.  _Good boy. _

“ _Oh my God,”_ he whimpered after dropping his phone back down to the bed and dragging both hands through his hair, eyes wide and fixed on the ceiling. “ Oh my God.”

Thursday couldn’t come soon enough. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey kid,” Steve greeted, thankfully dressed as casually as Peter was - dark jeans, tank top with a Captain America shield on it (yay, maybe he liked comic books) and combat style boots that Peter kinda wanted him to step on him with. 
> 
> But now wasn’t the time for that. 
> 
> “Hey... sir,” Peter smiled, voice coming out smaller than he’d have liked. “I mean Steve. Mr. Rogers. Sir.”
> 
> Steve grinned and opened the door wider. “I told you, just Steve is fine. Come on in.”
> 
> —
> 
> Steve & Peter spend their first night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has gotten a far better response than I was anticipating!! Thank you guys so so much!! Hopefully this chapter doesn’t disappoint :D let me know what you guys think!!

_Thursday night_

“I can’t - MJ, no, it’s 75 degrees outside and I’m already nervous sweating -“

“Dude, do you wanna look decent or not?”

“I do, and if I show up with sweat stains that will be the opposite of decent!”

MJ rolled her eyes and tossed aside the denim jacket she’d been trying to force on Peter’s shoulders. “Fine. Baby.”

Peter cocked his head. “M’not a b-“

“Stop moving,” Ned chastised him, hands full of pomade as they shaped Peter’s hair into a messy-on-purpose work of art. “It’s almost perfect.”

“Yeah, sit still,” MJ agreed, suddenly producing a pair of tweezers out of thin air and making Peter’s eyes widen. “I gotta get rid of your unibrow now.”

“Okay, no,  _no_ , we’re done, I’m fine,” Peter declared, darting out from between his two best friends and out of the tiny bathroom they’d all been smashed into. “I don’t even have a unibrow!”

“Keep telling yourself that,” MJ remarked, following him out into the living room with Ned just behind her. “So how much longer?”

Peter checked his phone with slightly shaky hands, pacing the floor without realizing it. “Ten until the Uber’s supposed to be here.”

Ned grinned. “Are you nervous?”

Peter shot him an utterly blank glare. “I dunno, Ned, what do you think?”

“When you showered earlier,” MJ asked next, “did you... y’know. Shower thoroughly?”

Peter pursed his lips in utter exasperation. “I’m gonna pretend like you didn’t just ask me that.”

Then Ned managed to make it about a zillion times worse with, “Is it true that you have to do an enema first? You know, to make sure that there’s no -“

Peter made a noise like a dying whale. “Oh my God, Ned! Shut up!”

MJ ignored Peter and replied, “You don’t really have to. You can if you want to, but Peter never did when I strapped him and it was fine.”

“Oh,” Ned nodded, “neat.”

Peter stared from Ned to MJ and back again. “Why are you like this? Both of you. You’re the worst.” Then his phone buzzed and he jumped so hard he nearly hit the ceiling before reading the text and feeling panic bloom anew in his chest. “Oh God, the Uber’s here.”

“Okay,” Ned nodded solemnly, “one last double check - condoms?”

Peter nodded, face slightly pale. “Check.”

“Code phrase to text or call in the event of Tattoo Daddy being a serial killer?” MJ asked. 

“Did you remember to feed the cat?” Peter replied, ignoring Ned as he hurried over to fuss with his hair some more. 

“Good. I still have you on my GPS app too, so if he tries to take you to a secondary location I’ll know.”

“MJ, I really don’t think -“

“Hey,” she said as she rushed up to him and gave him a quick, tight hug, “we always look out for each other. Forever. No matter what.”

Peter warmed and returned her hug, letting out a soft sigh. “Yeah. Thanks, MJ.”

She pulled back and smiled. “Course. Now,” she slapped his shoulder, “go get fucked.”

Peter gulped. “Right.” Scooping up his keys and phone he turned and all but ran out the door, calling out his thanks for all the help over his shoulder, and after the door clicked shut Ned smiled and sighed. 

“They grow up so fast.”

MJ side-eyed him. “Stop being weird and order pizza. It’s your turn to pay. No olives.”

“.... But I like olives.”

“No olives.”

Ned sighed and grabbed his phone. “Fine, no olives.”

MJ plopped on the couch and put up her feet on the arm of it. “Damn right no olives. Now time for Operation Make Sure Peter Doesn’t Become A Skinsuit.”

—

The Uber driver that picked Peter up was thankfully not very chatty, leaving Peter to quietly freak out in peace in the backseat. He almost started chewing his nails before he remembered the semi-manicure that MJ had been nice enough to give him the day before, opting instead to pull out his phone and scroll whatever social media app he saw first. 

But he couldn’t even focus on a single picture. He swallowed nervously and watched through the window as the city passed him by, taking him to Brooklyn where the hottest guy he’d ever seen waited for his arrival. It was surreal and terrifying and mostly incredibly exciting, but the only problem was that when he was this nervous he tended to babble and he had nobody to babble to. This left him at a very high risk of all the babble being bottled up until he arrived at Steve’s place, at which he’d undoubtedly word-vomit all over the poor man the very minute he opened the door. 

He grimaced, bouncing his leg and biting a nail before he caught himself and sighed, deciding to just sit on his damn hands since he obviously had no idea what to do with them. 

The roughly 30 minute drive felt like nothing short of an entire eternity by the time the car came to a halt in front of an incredibly tall and well-kept apartment building. But Peter barely had time to properly gawk before he reached for the door handle, pausing to look upfront and ask, “Do I need to tip you or -“

“Taken care of,” the driver replied, waving him off, and Peter took the hint and got lost. The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of Steve’s apartment building and gulping down a sudden lump in his throat. 

Later on he’d barely remember how he got from the sidewalk to Steve’s door, though he was fairly sure there was an elevator involved and he thought someone said something to him at some point, but really it was all a blur until he found himself standing in front of Steve’s door. His stomach was a mess and his heart was racing and he had to force himself to knock on the door rather than run away like the nerves kept telling him to, but he did it and that was when the real panic set in. 

He looked down at himself - blue jeans and a black t-shirt and shoes he’d owned for 2 years - and suddenly he wondered why the hell he hadn’t let MJ dress him up. He shoved his hands into his pockets, fidgeting and feeling like an idiot, like Steve was gonna open the door and laugh in his face and then slam the door into it. 

But then Steve actually did open the door, and Peter’s panic dissolved. Steve filled up the doorway with his massive frame, everything about him even hotter than Peter had remembered, and Steve smiled the minute their eyes met. 

“Hey kid,” Steve greeted, thankfully dressed as casually as Peter was - dark jeans, tank top with a Captain America shield on it (yay, maybe he liked comic books) and combat style boots that Peter kinda wanted him to step on him with. 

But now wasn’t the time for that. 

“Hey... sir,” Peter smiled, voice coming out smaller than he’d have liked. “I mean Steve. Mr. Rogers. Sir.”

Steve grinned and opened the door wider. “I told you, just Steve is fine. Come on in.”

Peter ducked his head down and walked inside, hands still in his pockets and eyes darting around the roomy, clean apartment. It wasn’t outrageously large and the furnishings that he could see weren’t crazy-expensive looking but it was still on a whole other level than what he, a broke college kid, was used to. The floors were hardwood and beautiful art lined the walls, the kitchen had an actual marble island, and the TV mounted in the living room made him wanna cry a little. 

“Can I get you a drink?” Steve asked, rousing Peter from his accidental revelry. “Something to eat? You have dinner already?”

“Oh, yeah yeah, I ate already,” Peter confirmed. 

“Drink then,” Steve decided, heading off towards the kitchen. “Go on and have a seat and I’ll bring it to you. What would you like?”

Peter walked to the big black leather couch just some feet away and replied, “Oh, I... just whatever you’re having.”

The couch was surprisingly comfortable but it did nothing to soothe his nerves as he waited, listening to the sound of ice clinking and liquid pouring, followed at last by deceptively soft footsteps coming his way. The next thing he knew, he had a glass of whiskey on the rocks in his hand and Steve was sitting down next to him, leaving enough space between them to not freak Peter out even more than he already was. 

“Thanks,” Peter said, eyeing the drink and hoping he wouldn’t choke and sputter on it like an idiot. He was more used to beer and weird dorm party concoctions. 

“Yeah, no problem. How was the ride here?”

“Fine,” Peter nodded, meeting Steve’s eyes for half a second before looking back down at his drink. It was like staring at the sun, looking at this man, and he didn’t know how to do it without losing his cool. “No traffic for once.”

“Surprising,” Steve mused. Then he took a long sip of his own drink, watching Peter continue to stare at his own as if it might divulge the secrets of the universe any minute, and Steve decided to have mercy on the kid and break the ice. “Listen, Peter, for the record I don’t ever do this, either.”

Peter’s head snapped up. “What?”

Steve smiled sympathetically and gestured vaguely. “This. Hooking up with people I barely know. To be honest I don’t usually even want to. So it’s okay to be nervous - I am too, kinda.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “ Really ? I mean, you’re -  _wow_ . I figured you probably had people in and out of here every week.”

Steve chuckled at that assumption, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s not really my style. Especially when it comes to clients.”

Peter blushed, looking away again to keep from squirming at the way that Steve looked at him as he said that. He tried to think of something to say back but thankfully Steve was the one to speak next. 

“But... guess there’s exceptions to every rule.”

Peter’s stomach did the flip-floppy thing it was doing so much of lately, this time stronger than ever, and he looked up at Steve in surprise. “ _Me_ _?_”

Steve tilted his head and quirked a brow. “Have you seen yourself, kid?”

“.... Yeah,” Peter shrugged. “I’m not nearly as hot as you and the other people who work in your shop. Like walking in there is like going into a different dimension where everyone’s as hot as humanly possible, it’s so weird.”

That made Steve genuinely laugh, throwing his head back a little bit as he did. “Well... don’t sell yourself short, Peter. You’re not so out of place there.” When Peter visibly struggled to figure out something to say to that, Steve mused, “Not sure how to take compliments?”

“Not... that, exactly,” Peter shook his head. “But compliments from you? Yeah, no, that’s a whole other level of... I don’t even know.”

Steve seemed endlessly amused by this, and Peter wasn’t sure why until he said, “You know, I’m aware of the image that I project these days and how people usually perceive me. Either they’re intimidated or they look at me like I’m trash or... they look at me like you do,” he said with a certain little glint in his eye. “But when I was younger - around your age - I was small and skinny as a rail and sick all the time. Got beat up more times than I can count. So it’s kind of a... well, a mindfuck to get used to the way people look at me now, even though it’s been years.”

Peter eyed Steve up and down, unable to imagine how the hell he could have ever been anything but a tattooed 6 foot tall sex god. “I... cannot imagine you being  small . Holy shit.”

“Can’t say I miss it,” Steve chuckled. “Not the being small part, but the being on death’s door every winter - that I don’t miss. I only just last year paid off the last of my medical debt from back then.”

“Wow,” Peter blinked. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, fuck capitalism,” Steve agreed, and both men shared a small laugh. Then he glanced down to the untouched drink in Peter’s hand and noted, “Not much of a whiskey guy, huh?”

Peter flushed with mild embarrassment. “I’ve never tried it, to be honest.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Steve assured him. “I can get you something else instead. And not just alcohol. I’ve got water, iced tea, soda...”

“You know, iced tea sounds a lot better,” Peter admitted, and Steve chuckled and gave his shoulder a pat before getting up to his feet. 

“C’mere. I’ll give you a tour of the place, too.”

And that was how Peter found himself sipping a glass of just slightly sweetened homemade iced tea - his Ma’s recipe, Steve said - as Steve walked him around and gave him a proper tour. Some of the art on the walls was created by Steve himself, it turned out, and Peter was not at all surprised that Steve excelled at multiple forms of art. In the hallway, Steve’s walls displayed vintage movie posters from the 30s and 40s, an era Steve confessed to always being fascinated with. The guest bedroom was rarely used, acting mostly as storage for books Steve kept acquiring but hadn’t gotten around to reading yet, and by the time they made it to the master bedroom, Peter’s nerves had somehow eased significantly. 

Steve, despite being physically quite intimidating to Peter mostly due to how attractive he found him, was actually quite warm and easy to be around and talk to, Peter thought. He was more relaxed here at home than he’d been at the tattoo shop, and Peter quite liked his dry sense of humor. He was so caught up in listening to Steve talk about the last book he’d read that he barely realized he was standing in the middle of his bedroom until he pointed it out. 

“This is my room, where I don’t sleep,” Steve joked, waving towards the fairly minimalist room. Big bed, dark blue sheets and curtains, not much on the walls, the whole space far tidier than any bedroom Peter had seen in ages. “I don’t spend much time in here, I like it out there better. Come here, I’ll show you.”

Peter followed Steve out to the fire escape outside of the bedroom, and he was immediately impressed by the pretty and inviting space that Steve had turned it into. Hanging plants lined the railing and a few potted herbs sat on the flooring, and a cute little table and two chairs took up most of the rest of the space. 

“Friend of mine helped me set all this up,” Steve explained, watching Peter reach out and touch a perfectly bloomed flower in one of the hanging plants. “I come out here to sketch, relax, read. Clear my head.”

“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Peter nodded, looking out at the view of the city from where they stood. “Great view.” He looked up and sighed at how hard it was to see the stars. “Too bad you can barely see the stars.”

“I don’t know,” Steve murmured in a way that sent a shiver down Peter’s spine, “think I like my view just fine.”

Peter looked up to find Steve’s eyes on him and him alone, and he forgot how to breathe. What even was air, anyway? He didn’t need it, surely. All he needed was the man inching closer to him, the man who gently took the glass from his hand and set it on the table and then turned his intense blue eyes back on Peter. 

“Do you have any idea,” Steve half-whispered as he slowly backed Peter up against the wall of the building, “how much I’ve been holding back since the second you walked through the door?”

How Peter didn’t spontaneously combust, he’d never know. Steve was so close, close enough to smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off his body, and they weren’t even touching but it was already  so much. “N-no?”

Steve reached up and cupped his jaw, tilting his head up. “Something about you just...”

Peter stared at Steve’s lips, pink and perfect and framed by that beard that he was pretty sure should have monuments built in its honor, and he realized he had no idea what Steve had just said. “Huh?”

Steve smiled. “You’re so damn adorable.” Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Peter’s, and Peter gasped softly into his mouth before kissing him back. 

Steve’s lips were as soft as they looked, and the contrast with the roughness of his beard made Peter’s head spin. The first kiss was chaste, sweet, the second a little less so, and on the third, Steve’s tongue slipped its way inside Peter’s mouth and made his knees go weak. Peter held on with his arms wrapped around Steve’s neck - though he wasn’t sure when they’d ended up there - and felt like he was floating in some other plane of existence as they kissed and kissed and kissed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

Then Steve abruptly pulled away, panting, “Inside.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Peter agreed hastily, and the two of them hurriedly stumbled their way back into Steve’s bedroom. Peter barely had time to catch his breath before Steve was back on him, kissing him hard and passionate and grasping his hips in his hands, pushing him up against the wall across from the bed. Peter responded with equal fervor, loving the feeling of being caught between Steve and the wall, being caged in and surrounded by that chest and those arms, feeling smaller than he really was and somehow loving it. 

The next time they broke apart for air, Steve turned to rain kisses down Peter’s jaw and neck as he slowly ran his palm up and under Peter’s shirt. Peter simply hung on tight, breathing hard and feeling overstimulated from hardly anything at all, and it only got worse when suddenly those hands shot down and gripped the back of his thighs and hoisted him up against the wall as if he weighed nothing at all. 

“Oh holy shit, that’s hot,” Peter whimpered, earning a breathless laugh from Steve before their lips collided again. Peter sunk his fingers into Steve’s soft blonde locks as Steve started rocking into him gently, hips against hips, the layers between them muting the friction but it was still more than enough to go to Peter’s head. Just knowing that _Steve_ washolding him up against the wall and ravaging him with kisses and grinding their cocks together through their jeans was intoxicating, and Peter was moaning wantonly before he even realized it. 

“Feel good, sweetheart?” Steve asked, leaning back just far enough to watch Peter’s flushed face. “Jesus, look at you,” he murmured, rocking harder, watching Peter’s mouth fall open. “You’re gonna come like this, aren’t you? Barely even gotta touch you and you’re about to ruin these jeans, huh?”

Steve’s filthy words intensifying everything he felt to levels he couldn’t fathom, Peter heard himself babbling _please_ and _oh God_ and then Steve was moving faster and it was perfect, and then Steve all but growled  _come for me_ ,  Peter and that was it, he was done and clinging hard to Steve as he gasped and shook through his orgasm. 

Had he been in his right mind Peter might have been embarrassed, but everything was warm and pleasantly hazy and he couldn’t seem to really think at all for a few blissful moments. He was aware of Steve holding him close and whispering sweet words as he carried him across the room, but he didn’t open his eyes until Steve laid him down in that big comfy bed Peter had been eyeing earlier. 

Peter blinked up at Steve, cheeks flushing as he smiled sheepishly. “Um... sorry... about that...”

Steve simply chuckled and sat down next to Peter’s legs, busying himself by gently taking off Peter’s shoes. “Don’t be. Can’t say I’m not flattered. Besides,” he glanced up with a smirk, “you’re young. Won’t take long to get you going again. Sit up.”

Peter obeyed wordlessly, sitting up just enough to let Steve pull off his shirt. Steve cast it aside and let his eyes roam Peter’s chest, reaching out and gently tracing themostly healed spider tattoo, then letting his fingers drift lower until he flattened his palm and pushed Peter back down to the bed. Then he started working on Peter’s belt, and the whole thing was so quiet and yet so effortlessly sensual that Peter could already feel the stirrings of new arousal low in his gut as Steve finished fully undressing him. 

All of his clothes now lying in a pile on the floor, Peter tried not to squirm as Steve ran his eyes slowly over his fully bare form. He seemed to like what he saw, biting his lip before standing up and kicking off his own shoes, but after he shucked off his shirt and reached down for his belt Peter sprang up and said, “Wait, I wanna - can I?”

Steve paused before stepping forward, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Anything you want, baby.”

His words felt like a caress, sending a shiver down Peter’s spine as he reached out and started undoing Steve’s belt himself. Peter was kneeling on the bed, eyes roving over the countless tattoos littering Steve’s torso as his fingers worked. There was a lion with a fiery mane on one pec, a bleeding red star on his left upper arm, names and dates in beautiful fonts, words scrawled in Latin, vines that twined around his side and bloomed into vibrant flowers at his ribs, so much gorgeous art and yet it didn’t distract from the least from all the impressive muscles beneath. The man was absolutely ripped, enough to dwarf Peter with the four inches and probably 30ish pounds he had on him, and Peter had to physically restrain himself from whimpering  _murder me Daddy_ as he stared at him. 

A faint chuckle snapped him out of his brief trance. “Distracted?”

Peter blinked and then looked down at his completely still hands, which had managed to unbutton Steve’s jeans before he’d gotten lost in his abs. “Oh,” he blushed, quickly getting back to the task at hand and pulling down the zipper. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Steve murmured, running his fingers lightly through Peter’s hair as he then pulled both the denim and the boxers beneath down at once. He’d thought that he was ready to see all of Steve but he really wasn’t, and the proof was in the way that he froze and stared open-mouthed at the most perfect cock he’d ever seen, mere inches from his face, as Steve stepped out of his clothes and tried not to smirk _too_ indulgently at Peter’s wide-eyed awe. 

“Peter.”

Peter didn’t even blink. “Yeah?”

Steve reached down and lifted up his chin with one finger, forcing Peter to finally meet his eyes. “Have you done this before?”

“I - oh yeah,” Peter nodded hastily. “Yeah, I’m not a virgin or anything.”

Steve’s fingers slid back into Peter’s hair, a place they seemed to enjoy being. “So you’ve been with men before?”

Peter hesitated. “Well, not - exactly, but -“

“You ever suck a cock?” Steve asked bluntly, and Peter nearly moaned out loud. “Gotten fucked by one?”

Peter was definitely hard again, blushing hard and dying inside from how insanely hot it was to hear Steve talking like that. “Just toys,” he confessed finally, looking away and wishing he didn’t feel embarrassed. “Only had toys before.”

“Hey,” came Steve’s low, comforting voice from much closer now, and Peter looked up to find Steve kneeling in front of him. “Don’t be ashamed or anything, sweetheart. I only asked because I wanna make sure I know how to take care of you. How slow I gotta go, things like that.”

“You don’t have to go slow,” Peter shook his head. “I’m used to... that.”

“That?” Steve quirked a brow. “Getting fucked? Like to play around with toys at home, huh?”

Peter smiled and looked away again, face on fire as he admitted, “It really should be illegal for you to talk like that. Like I’m pretty sure I could get off just listening to you talk dirty.”

Steve grinned and kissed him. “Might have to test that someday,” he mused before taking Peter’s hand and finally climbing into bed himself. He sat back against the headboard and pulled Peter into his lap, arranging him so that he was straddling Steve, and Peter 100% decided that he was for sure into this manhandling thing. “Look at you,” Steve nearly growled, running his hands over Peter’s ass and hips. “Fit into my lap so fuckin’ perfect.”

Peter whimpered at those words and the feeling of being in the older man’s lap and arms, and he couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him with everything he had. Steve kissed back with equal passion and it was the kind of fire that Peter had never known existed in real life, the sort of bone-deep need that should have set off alarm bells in his brain because _damn_ this was gonna ruin him, but it was just too damn good to second guess it. He needed it more than air, needed Steve more than anything else in the world in those moments. 

Then the intensity increased exponentially when Steve reached down between them and lined them up, taking both cocks in his big, perfect hand and slowly stroking them together. Peter gasped into his mouth, fingers digging into Steve’s broad shoulders as he looked down and watched, mesmerized. 

“Look good together, don’t we?” Steve whispered, eyes on Peter’s face. “Knew we would.”

Peter moaned and kissed him hard, asking in heated disbelief between the presses of their lips, “You thought about me?”

“Oh,  sweetheart ,” Steve intoned, one hand gripping the back of Peter’s hair and the other still stroking languidly, his eyes sweeping over the slightly debauched sight that Peter made in his current state, “you have  no _idea_ how much I’ve thought about you.”

Peter blinked, a gasp escaping as Steve did something  really nice with his wrist.  “ Really?”

Rather than reply, Steve grinned just the right side of wickedly and asked, “Can I fuck you?”

One slightly embarrassing strangled sound later, Peter answered, “Yeah, I think I might die if you don’t.”

Steve chuckled and then the next thing Peter knew, he was on his back and Steve was kissing down his chest, making his leisurely way down and stopping only to press a kiss to Peter’s tattoo with a pointed glance upwards. Peter smiled, still hardly able to believe that any of this was really happening as Steve sunk down lower. Thankfully Steve didn’t seem to be in much of a teasing mood, grabbing a mostly full bottle of lube from his nightstand and then settling between Peter’s legs. 

“Relax, sweetheart,” Steve told him, gaze sincere as he met Peter’s eyes. “I’ve got you.”

And that was all the warning Peter had before Steve was swallowing him down, distracting him from the slick press and gentle intrusion of his fingers with his hot, wet mouth. It might have been the best damn thing Peter had ever felt in his life, an overwhelming onslaught of sensations that left him somehow both needing more and nearly squirming away from it all being too much. Steve worked him like it was effortless, with more confidence and ease than Peter had ever encountered before - not that he could even begin to comprehend that with Steve deep throating him and perfectly hitting that sweet spot inside of him all at the same time. 

Peter was writhing and gasping, breathless broken words filling the heated air they were enveloped in, and it was the absolute best kind of sensory overload. He was lost in the pleasure and more than ready to let it overtake him when Steve stopped abruptly, leaving Peter whimpering and opening surprisingly watery eyes only to find Steve smirking as he sat back on his heels, tearing open a flat foil package. 

“Not even close to being done with you yet,” Steve murmured, sliding on a condom that might have materialized from thin air for all Peter knew. Peter watched in rapt attention, then let out an _oomph_ when Steve seized his hips and flipped him over on to his hands and knees. Steve slowly kissed his way up Peter’s spine, murmuring once he reached Peter’s ear and was covering his body with his own, “Gonna show me what you got, kid?”

Peter responded by reaching up and pulling Steve down for a frantic kiss, rocking back against him and showing him rather than telling him how truly desperate he was. Steve all but growled into his mouth, biting at his lower lip before pulling away to line them up and slowly, gently, _finally_ pressing inside. 

It was a lot to take, but Peter knew how to make himself relax and adjust to the sensation. But he’d never had quite so  much before, and it was markedly different from the toys he’d played with in the past, but it wasn’t a bad change. Steve was hotter, thicker, and the way that he groaned into the nape of Peter’s neck while slowly bottoming out... _God_ this might have been heaven. 

And Steve was caring enough to stay still for a bit, kissing all over Peter’s shoulders and neck and letting his hands roam his whole body, giving him more than enough time to adjust. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked tenderly, palm running softly up and down Peter’s side. 

Peter nodded, hair dangling in his face and mingling with the growing sweat on his forehead. “Yep, yeah, I’m good. You can... you can move.”

“Good boy,” Steve praised in an absolutely filthy tone before slowly pulling almost all the way out and then sliding back in, both men groaning low, Peter’s hands fisted into the sheets beneath them as he worked hard to hold himself up. 

Though Steve had been slow and gentle at first, he knew damn well that Peter could take what he had to give and he didn’t hesitate to prove it to the both of them. He built up a deep, punishing rhythm, not rushing but not taking his time either, finding the right angle that made Peter wail and shake with every new thrust. 

Steve was so  _big_ \- not just his dick but all of him, his chest, his arms, his very  presence \- and Peter felt small and safe and _consumed_ underneath him. He was surrounded by Steve, wrapped around him, left at his mercy and it was everything he’d never known he needed. It wasn’t long before his arms gave out and he collapsed to the bed, Steve’s hands on his hips the only thing holding him up as he pounded away. 

Then, just as the pleasure grew nearly too good to bear any longer, Steve leaned forward again and covered Peter’s body with his, one hand holding himself up and the other slipping down to wrap around Peter’s cock. “You feel so damn good,” Steve purred into his ear, hand squeezing him gently, hips snapping feverishly. “Take my cock so well, baby.”

Peter whined nonsensically, unable to move much but trying his best to move with Steve, needing just that last little bit of friction to put him over the edge. “ God, please, I’m ...”

“Shh,”  Steve hushed him gently, having mercy on him at last. “Go on, let go. Let me feel you come, sweetheart.” Then one, two, three strokes of his hand and Peter was gone, mouth open in a silent moan as he lost himself to his orgasm and took Steve over with him. 

It was unlike anything Peter had ever experienced before. His previous experiences with sex had been good, great even, but nothing had ever approached this level of intensity. He was wrung out, cheeks streaked with tears, muscles and limbs turned to jelly, lungs fighting for air as both he and Steve slowly recovered. Steve laid stretched over him for a few long, blissful moments until slipping out of him and then tugging him into his side as he laid down, the big spoon to Peter’s little one. 

Steve peppering soft, affectionate kisses across Peter’s shoulder and the curve of his neck, Peter giggled and tensed when he hit a ticklish spot. Steve chuckled too and nuzzled him there, the scratch of his beard strangely grounding. “You okay?”

“I’m...  _awesome,” _Peter replied with a big, lazy grin. “Like... I can’t even think right now.”

“Good,” Steve hummed, hand restlessly roaming Peter’s body still, like he simply couldn’t stop himself from touching him. “S’what I wanna hear.”

Peter closed his eyes and enjoyed the light, casual touches, the warmth of Steve’s body behind his, the tranquility in the air bringing him right to the edge of a peaceful slumber. He was mere seconds from passing out when Steve kissed just under his ear and said, “Better get you cleaned up. Stay here.”

Blinking back awake, Peter rubbed at his eyes after Steve slipped away and wondered what would come next, if Steve would let him stay the night or send him home. He got his answer when Steve returned, clad in just sweatpants and bearing a warm towel that he gently ran over Peter’s body. 

“Called you an Uber,” Steve told him quietly. “It’ll be here in ten.”

Peter nodded, trying not to let his disappointment show. It was okay, really, and he hadn’t expected anything else if he was being honest, but he just... really didn’t wanna leave that bed, possibly ever. “Okay.”

Setting the towel aside, Steve then handed Peter something else - a pair of faded gray sweats. “I’ll get your jeans washed. These are my friend Nat’s pants so they might be a little short, but... my clothes would swallow you,” he grinned, “so I figured this was your best bet.”

Having forgotten all about his earlier... mishap, Peter blushed as he sat up and took the offered clothes. “Oh, yeah, thanks. I uh... forgot about... that.”

Steve smiled at him like he was particularly cute in that moment, then leaned forward and gently kissed his lips. Peter kissed back eagerly, desperate to feel as much of Steve as he could while he could, and Steve didn’t seem to mind. One kiss became many more, Peter’s tongue slipping into Steve’s mouth as he decided to be bold and slip out from the sheets and place himself back where he belonged - on Steve’s lap. 

Steve chuckled against his lips as Peter made himself comfortable, Steve’s hands sliding down to grip his ass as he asked, “Want more already, huh?”

“Maybe,” Peter replied, unsure if he really did or if he was just trying to buy himself a little more time. Either way he kept kissing the hell out of Steve and running his hands through his hair, up and down his insanely hard chest, rocking in his lap like a needy little thing. 

Steve sighed and leaned back on one hand as Peter pulled away for air and decided to start kissing down Steve’s neck. “You got class in the morning, kid?”

Peter’s head shot up. “Huh? No. I mean yeah,” he shrugged, “one lecture, but I can ski-“

Steve shook his head. “Don’t think so, Peter.” When Peter’s face fell, Steve smirked and cupped his cheek. “Tell you what. You go to all your classes, do all your studying, finish whatever assignments you’ve got this week, and then we can do this again. How’s that sound?”

Peter blinked, a smile slowly spreading across his lips. “Did you just... make responsibility  sexy ?”

“That’s my superpower,” Steve winked, and Peter laughed. 

“Fine,” Peter finally conceded, even while he looked Steve over a bit mournfully. “But are you sure I can’t... I didn’t even get you suck you off at all, and I really wanted t-“

Steve cut him off with a kiss, then looked at him through his lashes as he whispered, “I’ll let you suck me off all you want next time. Deal?”

“... Mhm,” Peter whimpered before kissing him again, then again and again until Steve laughed softly and made him stop and finally get dressed. 

Half hard again but knowing it was in vain, Peter finally relented and put the damn clothes on. He also downed a glass of water that Steve offered him in the kitchen, in the middle of putting his shoes back on when Steve got the text that the Uber had arrived. 

“Car’s outside,” Steve told him gently, himself still shirtless with his hair mussed in all his post-sex glory. Peter straightened up and nodded, letting Steve walk him to the door and hoping that their goodbye wouldn’t be awkward. But he was worried for nothing, because as soon as they reached the door Steve grabbed him and tossed him against it before giving him a kiss to remember, the kind Peter could feel in his very bones. It was the single most sexual, filthy kiss that he’d ever experienced, and it felt like nothing less than a promise of what was to come. 

After, as Peter was left panting between Steve and the door, Steve smirked at him. “Thanks for coming over, Peter.”

“Y-yeah,” Peter nodded, voice breaking a little. “Thanks for having me.”

Steve’s grin widened, and he placed one last kiss on Peter’s lips before reaching past him to open the door. “Be safe, okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed mindlessly, turning and stepping through the open door but turning back to look at Steve almost immediately. He smiled shyly. “I’ll text you?”

“I’m counting on it,” Steve winked before closing the door. 

Peter’s heart leapt into his throat and, quite possibly, decided right then and there that it belonged to Steve Rogers and Steve Rogers alone. 

_Oh God. Oh no. Oh holy shit_ , he realized as he walked away on cloud nine, a stupid smile stuck to his face as he all but danced to the elevator and then out to the waiting Uber.  _ I am so fucking fucked .  _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter stared in disbelief for several long, agonizing seconds until the leather and denim-clad man on the bike killed the engine and then sat back to take off his helmet, revealing windswept blonde hair and a bearded face that Peter would know anywhere. 
> 
> “Holy shit,” Peter, Ned and MJ all muttered in unison. 
> 
> Steve, sitting there looking like a Bon Jovi song come to life and the walking manifestation of every wet dream ever, simply grinned like he knew full well what he was doing. “Hey Queens,” he called, eyes on Peter, “hop on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading and following this story!!! The response continues to be way more than I expected and I’m super grateful to all of you :) this chapter took what felt like forever to finish because me & the fam got sick and being sick always gives me a massive lingering case of writer’s block but now I’m back and hopefully that’s over with now lol. Lemme know what you guys think and thanks again!!! :D

After reading the same paragraph no less than five times and comprehending exactly 0% of it, Peter sighed and leaned back in his chair to stretch his arms and legs a bit. It was late and he’d been studying for a few hours, fueled by Red Bull and crappy fast food, but his focus just wasn’t there. He dragged his hands over his face and rubbed at his tired eyes, debating just calling it a night and trying again in the morning when his phone buzzed loudly on his desk next to his computer. 

He glanced at the screen and two wide-eyed frantic double-takes later, he grabbed at it so stupidly that he knocked it on the floor rather noisily, cursing colorfully as he dove to the floor and retrieved the phone only to bang his head on the desk on the way back up. 

He didn’t even care. He had a new text from  _Steve_, the first one since their night together. 

It had been four days since that incredible night and Peter had thought of little else but Steve, even dreaming about him a couple of times, but he didn’t wanna come off too clingy or eager (per MJ’s advice) so he’d repressed the nearly unbearable urge to text Steve himself. It seemed to have paid off, however, as Peter unlocked his phone with shaky hands and read Steve’s text at last. 

_Just relocated a wolf spider in my kitchen back into the wild... made me think of you ;)_

Peter’s resulting smile could have lit an entire city. He reread the text a few times, absentmindedly nibbling on his thumbnail before typing up his answer. 

_In a good way, right?_ Peter asked, studies definitely the last thing on his mind now as his brain tunnel-visioned on Steve Rogers and this new text conversation. 

_Always_ , Steve replied only seconds later. _S_ _o how are those assignments coming?_

Peter groaned under his breath, mind immediately flashing back to what Steve had told him before sending him back home that night -  _Tell you what. You go to all your classes, do all your studying, finish whatever assignments you’ve got this week, and then we can do this again. How’s that sound? _\-  and God, he could already feel himself getting hard in his sweatpants. 

_Going okay. Got a paper to finish and a test in a couple days, then I can breathe for another week. Kinda anyway lol_

Peter paced from one end of his room to the other as he waited for Steve to reply, only vaguely realizing that he didn’t even remember getting up and starting to pace to begin with. He was on autopilot, nervous and instantly horny, which was his default setting for Steve Rogers thus far. 

_Nice_, Steve finally replied an agonizingly long two minutes later.  _Any plans for Friday night?_

Peter hesitated - Friday night was supposed to be movie night with Aunt May and her wife, but... if Steve had other ideas... 

_Not really_, he replied, chewing his lip.  _You_?

**Steve** : _You tell me_

Peter gulped and sat down on the edge of his bed, wondering if it was just him or if the room temperature had suddenly shot up ten degrees.  _That an invitation_?

**Steve**:  _So long as you get those assignments finished ;)_

Peter groaned and flopped back on the bed, legs dangling off and cheeks flushed and dick  way too interested in something that was days in the future. As he laid there trying not to die, Steve sent another text that Peter held his phone up over his face to read. 

_You’re gonna be a good boy and get all your work done, right? _

Peter promptly dropped the phone on his face. “.... Ow.”

But then he recovered quickly, sitting back up and thumbs flying across the keyboard.  _Yes sir. Been studying all night, actually . _

**Steve** : _Atta boy_. 

Just those simple, tiny words of praise warmed Peter from the inside out and made him feel like he might just combust right there where he sat. He spent a moment or two debating what to say next, then decided to rely on his instincts as he composed his next reply. 

_Though now, gotta say... I’m all distracted._

**Steve** : _oh no. By what? _

Peter chuckled, imagining the self-satisfied smirk that Steve must have had on his face as he’d sent that. 

_By you, sir. Now I just want Friday to hurry up and come._

**Steve**:  _How badly?_

Biting his lip so hard it hurt, Peter could feel his heartbeat in his ears as he replied, _So bad, sir._

Then Steve replied with two little words that sent Peter’s brain into overdrive:  _Show me. _

The minute he read those words, it was on. Peter flung his phone down on the bed and whipped off his shirt in almost all the same motion, scooting back and upwards into the pillows and getting into a comfortable position. Then he shoved his pants and boxers down to his thighs without a second thought, gripping himself and stroking to full hardness, closing his eyes and thinking about Steve and how he’d touched him, how he’d kissed him, how he’d  _fucked_ him... how he was waiting at home for a picture of Peter that would show him just how thirsty he was for Steve. 

A few drops of pre-come wrung out, just enough to be visible, Peter’s free hand picked his phone back up and began angling for the perfect shot. After a few false starts he settled on a selfie that showed off everything he wanted Steve to see, his jaw and mouth the only visible parts of his face but that was okay because after all, this wasn’t about his face. It was about the wet cock in his hand and the abs he made sure to flex, and the flush on his chest that would have embarrassed him had he not known that Steve liked it. 

Then he pressed send and hoped for the best. He placed the phone down on his chest and kept stroking himself, light and easy, eyes drifting closed again as he waited. He could only wish that his hand felt half as good on his body as Steve’s did. 

But Steve’s words were nearly as good, his responding texts far better than anything Peter had expected. 

_Oh, baby boy... look at you. _

_Fuck. _

_You’ve got the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen. Fuckin’ perfect, baby. _

Peter nearly lost it right then, the praise and  baby boy being nearly too much to handle. Fist still working himself, he typed up his next text with all the confidence he could gleam from Steve’s generous words. 

_Yeah, you like it, sir?_

When it took longer than usual for Steve to respond, Peter began to get anxious and fear that he’d somehow ruined it all, but thankfully those moments of fear didn’t last long. His phone buzzed with a new text - one with a picture, he realized as his heart nearly skidded to a halt in his chest from pure excitement. 

_Does it look like i do? _ Steve retorted beneath a selfie that made Peter’s brain short circuit. It was a picture taken from the waist down as Steve laid in his bed, seemingly completely naked, his large hand wrapped around his equally large cock, which was nearly purple with need. His crazily tiny waist and belly displaying the word  _Brooklyn_ tattooed in bold, beautiful lettering across his skin was just as damn alluring as his dick, and the glimpse of his pecs at the very top of the picture...  _oh g \- _

“_Oh God, oh fuck, _” Peter managed to gasp out before coming all over himself  way before he’d wanted to. But he couldn’t help it, not when he’d already been so on edge and then was presented with photographic evidence of Steve Rogers being horny enough for him, for  _Peter_, that he was naked in bed and getting himself off. It was just too much, dammit. 

Breathing hard and reveling in that pleasant post-orgasm mental haze, Peter took a moment or two to clear his head before opening his eyes and realizing with a grimace that even his damn chin was wet, in addition to pretty much his entire torso. He reached for his discarded shirt before freezing and blinking, deciding instead to lay back down and stretch out and... open up the camera on his phone. 

He’d never done anything like this before he’d met Steve, not even a little bit, but it somehow felt almost natural to snap a few pics of his come-covered body, making sure to capture how high it’d gotten on him. He decided to let his face show fully in this one, his hair a mess and cheeks flushed and hopefully appealing and not embarrassing. He didn’t give himself the chance to think twice about it before sending it off to Steve.

While he waited, Peter cleaned himself up and pulled his pants back up, leaving his shirt off to let his heated skin cool as he stared daggers into his phone, willing Steve’s next text to appear. It was his longest wait the entire night, and he was about to go out of his mind and scream when finally the screen lit up with a new text... and a new picture. 

_You really know how to fuckin’ kill me, don’t you kid?_

Peter read those words and then whimpered out loud, because just above them was a picture of Steve’s own messy post-orgasm body and  _holy fuck holy shit holy fucking shit fuck \- _

The Brooklyn tattoo wasn’t quite so clean anymore, nor were a number of others all along his torso, including the lion on his pec. It was a beautifully debauched sight, and yet it was nothing compared to the predatory, dangerous expression that graced Steve’s damn near perfect face. 

All Peter could do was stare open-mouthed for a good... five minutes? Ten? Hell, it could have been an hour for all he knew, that was how compromised he was by this man. 

_Fall asleep? _ Steve asked, accompanied by a laughing emoji. 

_No, no, just... staring and drooling,  Peter replied honestly. You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and I don’t even know what to say because no words are good enough. _

Steve’s next reply came fairly quickly . _Thanks, baby._ _ You’re fucking gorgeous. _

Peter squirmed a little into his sheets, not really seeing how a word like that fit him but damn if he was gonna argue.  _Thank you, sir. Is it Friday yet?_

Steve replied with another laughing emoji, and then,  _Not quite. Keep studying and working hard and it’ll be here before you know it._

Peter groaned but he also knew that Steve was right. Friday would be there before he knew it, and then he’d get to see Steve again and touch him again and kiss him again and...  ugh he had to stop before he ended up making another mess. 

_I will._

**Steve** : _good boy. Now get some sleep__ . _

_Yes sir._

Peter dropped his phone to the bed and stretched out luxuriously as he grinned up at the ceiling, feeling like he was on top of the whole damn world. And he may as well have been, he thought, because if Steve Rogers thought he was gorgeous and worth sending dirty selfies and sexts to... then that was even better. 

—

_Next Friday _

“ So ,”  MJ asked around a mouthful of the best pizza on the block, “what are you all dressed up for? Kinda extra for a typical boring pizza night out.”

Nearly choking, Peter swallowed down way too much at once and then looked down at his outfit - just an off-white button down shirt and his best jeans, nothing too crazy. “Extra? This is - this is just normal. What do you -“

“No,” MJ shook her head, “normal for you is a shirt that says something like ‘nacho cheese’ with a hand smacking away another hand from a plate of nachos.”

“That’s my favorite shirt,” Ned chimed in. 

MJ then narrowed her eyes at Peter’s hair. “You used the fancy stuff on your hair, too. What’s going on, Peter? Hot date tonight?”

Deer in headlights mode activated, Peter shook his head. “No. Course not. Well, kinda, but -“

MJ’s brows wiggled salaciously. “Tattoo Daddy hit you up again?”

“Okay, first of all,” Peter said while pointing a finger at her, “you have got to stop calling him that because one of these days I’m gonna call him that to his face and it’s gonna be bad. And second of all yes, okay, but it’s no big deal and -“

“I knew it!” MJ whooped, smacking the table with her palms in triumph. “You think I don’t know your  _I’m trying to get laid_ look? I was on the receiving end of it for two years, I think I know it.”

Peter sighed and ran a hand through his hair - gently, trying not to mess it up. “Okay, but can you just... be cool, because -“ 

The chime of his phone stopped him mid-sentence, and he dug his phone from his pocket to find a new text from none other than Steve. 

_Just left work, on my way_

Peter gulped. This was earlier than they’d originally planned, but that was okay - it just meant that now Steve would have to pick Peter up from the pizza place rather than his apartment. Which was fine except... 

“Okay, so, guys,” Peter said after texting Steve his updated location, “um, turns out he’s gonna actually pick me up from here, so I’m gonna need both of you to play it cool, okay? Nothing embarrassing or weird. I mean it, MJ.”

Her eyes widened in pure feigned innocence. “Me? He’s the one you gotta worry about,” she shrugged towards Ned. 

“What? I’m the definition of playing it cool,” Ned protested. Then he pointed to the classic fedora sitting atop his head. “See my hat? This is as cool as it gets.”

Peter pursed his lips. “This is gonna be bad. Maybe you guys should leave before he gets here.”

“Not a chance,” MJ decreed, picking up her next pizza slice. “Now pipe down and eat your food. You’re gonna need your energy later for the deep dicking you’ll be getting.”

Ned smiled at Peter happily. “I’m really happy for you, man. This dude sounds awesome!”

Peter groaned and devoured half of his next slice in one bite. He was doomed. 

25 minutes later, he and his two best friends had paid their tab and were standing outside waiting for Steve’s imminent arrival. Peter tried to insist several more times that he could wait alone but of course they wouldn’t hear a word of it, which left Peter to stand there nervously tapping his foot on the ground as MJ asked him annoying questions. 

“Is he into choking? He looks like he’d be into choking.”

Belly fluttering at the mere thought, Peter suppressed a whimper and replied, “I’ve only slept with him once, MJ, I don’t know.”

“You should ask him to choke you and see what he says. Be all  _choke me daddy_ with your big puppy dog eyes.”

“Would you shut up?!” Peter hissed. 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re annoying when you’re nervous.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so nervous if you weren’t making me nervous!”

“I’m just giving you sex tips, okay? Besides, I know how much you like being choked, so -“

The low, throaty vroom of a motorcycle engine approaching drowned out her next few words, and all three pairs of eyes fell upon the sleek black chrome as the bike came to a stop at the curb directly in front of them. Peter stared in disbelief for several long, agonizing seconds until the leather and denim-clad man on the bike killed the engine and then sat back to take off his helmet, revealing windswept blonde hair and a bearded face that Peter would know anywhere. 

“Holy shit,” Peter, Ned and MJ all muttered in unison. 

Steve, sitting there looking like a Bon Jovi song come to life and the walking manifestation of every wet dream ever, simply grinned like he knew full well what he was doing. “Hey Queens,” he called, eyes on Peter, “hop on.”

Peter simply stood there like a useless gaping dope until his friends each gave him a physical push, and then he was walking towards Steve on legs that felt like jelly. Once he was close enough, Steve reached out a gloved hand and Peter took it assuming it was to help him get on, but instead Steve pulled him down and pressed their lips together in a chaste but deliciously unexpected kiss that nearly made his knees give out entirely. Then Steve pulled away, winked and nodded towards the bike. Feeling like he was having some kind of out of body experience, Peter climbed on behind Steve and tried to ignore how fast his heart was racing. 

“Ever ridden one of these before?” Steve asked, handing Peter his own helmet. 

“Nope, never,” Peter replied, taking it and dutifully lowering it over his head. 

“Okay. Don’t worry, I won’t go too fast,” Steve said, putting his own helmet back on. “Just hold on tight, okay?”

Peter blushed but scooted closer, semi-awkwardly wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. Then Steve chuckled and grasped his arms and yanked him closer until he was flush against Steve’s back and holding on much tighter. MJ whistled, and Peter pointedly ignored it. 

“There you go,” Steve nodded. “Pull my jacket twice if you need me to stop, okay?”

Peter took a deep breath. “Okay.”

Then Steve revved up the engine, waved goodbye to MJ and Ned, and slowly sped off towards Brooklyn. 

For the first few seconds it was a bit of a jarring experience, but Peter was no scaredy cat and once Steve hit the speed limit and was showing off how skilled and smooth he was of a rider, Peter absolutely loved it. He looked all around them as the city passed them by, a smile stuck to his face and a thrill in his veins, and he decided this was already one of the most awesome nights ever. He couldn’t help but feel utterly safe and cared for with Steve, even on a Harley in the middle of New York City traffic. And being plastered against him nearly head to toe... that was just a bonus, and possibly the best one ever. 

By the time that Steve’s apartment building came into view, Peter felt a fleeting sense of disappointment until he realized this meant sex was next and that was always gonna be better than riding a motorcycle, at least when Steve was involved. Steve parked in his building’s garage and, once the engine was off, took off his helmet and glanced back and asked, “How you doin’, kid?”

Peter all but yanked off his own helmet and beamed at Steve. “Oh my God, that was awesome! Holy crap! I wanna do that again!”

Steve chuckled and swung one leg over the bike, getting to his feet with ease and holding out a hand to help Peter up. “I had a feeling you’d like it.”

Peter stood and immediately stumbled a bit, legs still not quite working right, but Steve caught him and suddenly they were nearly chest to chest, Peter looking up at him with a pretty blush on his cheeks. “Thanks,” he smiled, the heat in his face intensifying when Steve smiled back and lifted a hand to run his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone. 

“Y’know, if this garage was private,” he murmured, voice thick with desire, “I’d bend you over my bike and have you right here.”

Not even bothering to hide his resulting whimper, Peter leaned in closer. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

But Steve stopped him before Peter could steal the kiss he’d been hoping for. “C’mon,” he said, taking Peter’s hand and gesturing towards the nearby elevator. “No exhibitionism tonight.”

Both disappointed and relieved by those words, Peter let Steve walk him to the elevator and focused on how nice it felt to have their hands linked like that. It was so nice, in fact, that it kept him distracted enough to control himself in the elevator and not throw himself at Steve the way he desperately wanted to. They stayed silent on the ride up, Peter wanting to say something but having no clue what to say and thus staying silent until Steve spoke first, just as the doors opened and they stepped off into the hallway. 

“So, all your assignments finished?” Steve asked, ever the unexpected bastion of responsibility. 

Peter snickered to himself, still holding Steve’s hand as they walked towards his door. “Yep, all my work is done. For this week, anyway. I can show you on my phone, if you need proof.”

Steve smirked at him from the corner of his eye, giving a small shake of his head. “I trust you.”

And for some reason, that gave Peter a warm and fuzzy feeling inside that kept him feeling like he was nearly floating until they stopped in front of Steve’s front door. Steve then disentangled their hands to unlock the door, holding it open for Peter to step in first and then walking in behind him and relocking it. 

Peter shoved his hands into his pockets as Steve flipped on a few lights and shed his jacket - revealing a white t-shirt so tight it was obscene - hanging it on a coat rack and then getting to work pulling off his fingerless gloves. Peter fought the urge to fidget and look away when Steve made eye contact, tilting his head a little as if trying to figure Peter out. 

“Want a drink?”

“Not really,” Peter replied honestly. “I’m okay.”

Steve nodded. “Need a minute before we get started?”

Peter hurriedly shook his head, cheeks reddening. “Nope. Definitely not, no.”

Steve grinned slightly devilishly and, gloves now discarded, he advanced on Peter and pushed him against the wall just before murmuring, “Good.” Then he kissed him hard and deep, and all Peter could do was whimper into the kiss and happily surrender to the older man. 

If danger and dominance had a taste, Peter was sure that it was the taste of Steve’s mouth. Every single damn kiss was like a shock to his system all over again, like a match to gasoline and he wondered how he’d ever kiss anyone else, touch anyone else, when he had experienced  _this_. 

And somehow, though it blew his mind, Steve seemed to be just as into him. Steve’s hands were hungry as they roamed his body and grasped at his hips and then at his ass, his kisses almost sloppy with fervor, his strong thigh slipping between Peter’s more slender ones and pressing against him so perfectly it made Peter moan into Steve’s mouth. 

That was when Steve broke away for air, hands wandering up and down Peter’s body as Steve looked him over. “You look damn good tonight, kid.”

Peter smiled deliriously. “Thanks, I tried. And so do you - obviously. Like when you pulled up on your motorcycle I was pretty sure I was gonna die.”

Steve snickered. “Well I’m glad you didn’t.” Then he leaned down and picked Peter up, their lips colliding in another ravenous kiss as Steve began to carry him off towards his couch, and Peter didn’t open his eyes until after Steve had turned and sat down, leaving Peter perfectly straddling his lap. 

Loving being in Steve’s lap as much as he had the last time, Peter stole another handful of frantic kisses as his fingers found the hem of Steve’s too-tight shirt and began to tug. He broke away long enough to pull it over Steve’s head and toss it aside, and then he was looking down at that inked up, muscular broad chest and cupping each pec in slightly trembling palms, simply in awe of the man before him. 

“God, you’re amazing,” Peter marveled as he touched Steve, hands running down to his abs and then back up again to squeeze the hard muscles. “Fuck, I just wanna -“

Rather than verbalize what he wanted, Peter simply just did it instead and dropped his head down to start tasting every inch of Steve’s chest. He hadn’t gotten to do this last time - hadn’t really done much of anything, if he was honest, besides lay back and take what Steve wanted to give him - and he was determined for this time to be different. Not only did he wanna know what Steve tasted like everywhere, but he wanted to prove that he could make Steve feel good, too, and that he was worth all this trouble in the first place. 

Steve leaned his head back and watched as Peter kissed down his neck and collarbone, playing idly with Peter’s hair and letting him do as he pleased for a bit. Steve was mostly quiet until Peter’s tongue licked over a nipple, and his resulting hiss made Peter look up and ask, “Good or bad?”

“Good,” Steve grinned, pulling Peter back to his chest. “Keep doin’ it. Don’t be afraid to use your teeth either.”

Peter groaned and did as he was told, pretty sure that this was what heaven was like. It just had to be, right? Especially once he started  just grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth and Steve started moaning, a low rumbly sound that went straight to Peter’s cock and made it ache with need. But he ignored his own needs for now, opting instead to slide a hand down to the front of Steve’s jeans and rub him slowly through the denim, and the shudder and groan that Steve gave in response...  _God_ he’d never get used to it. 

But Peter still wanted more, much more than this, so he began trailing his lips lower over Steve’s stomach and abs and worked to open up his jeans as he went. Soon his knees hit the floor between Steve’s open legs, and Peter looked up at Steve with pleading, hungry eyes as he asked, “Can I suck your cock, sir? Please?”

Steve’s eyes rolled shut and a rough curse left his lips before he groaned, “My God, baby boy, you’re killing me.”

Peter grinned and began to slowly slide Steve’s jeans and boxers down, Steve lifting up just enough to help him. “Is that a yes?”

Cock springing free from its confines and now mere inches from Peter’s face, Steve grasped it and gave it a few strokes just to tantalize the younger man. “It’s a hell yeah, baby.”

Excitement buzzing through him, Peter didn’t hesitate to lean forward and lick off the few little drops that Steve’s hand had wrung, swirling his tongue around the tip and replacing Steve’s hand with his own. Having never quite done this before, he gave himself a few minutes to simply taste and lick and touch, getting acquainted with the warm, velvety flesh before opening up and taking it into his mouth. He started small, taking care to avoid teeth and hollowing his cheeks as he sucked all the way back up. He built up a tentative rhythm like that, and Steve was more than happy to guide him and praise him for his efforts. 

“That’s good, baby,” Steve whispered, fingers tangled in Peter’s curls. “Look so pretty on your knees for me, that mouth so full...”

Peter moaned and took him deeper, Steve’s words spurring him on, and Steve’s own responding moan boosted Peter’s confidence even more. He didn’t care if it wasn’t perfect and that he couldn’t take all of Steve just yet, because as long as Steve felt good and it was all because of Peter, then that was more than enough. 

“You been thinking about this, huh?” Steve mused, watching himself disappear into Peter’s eager mouth over and over again. “Bet you touched yourself imagining this, imagining how I’d feel in your pretty little mouth. Did you?”

Peter pulled off panting, sucking down a few deep breaths before nodding and peeking up at Steve. “Yes, sir, I did.” Then he dove back in with a moan, and he could feel the way Steve’s thighs tensed beneath him and found great satisfaction in that. He was taking more of him down now, ignoring how it made his eyes water and how surprisingly strenuous of a task this was, because the way that Steve’s fingers tightened in his hair and the low, delicious groans that escaped his mouth were all more than worth it. 

“Mm, baby,” Steve moaned softly, sounding more and more wrecked. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep this up.”

As if those were the magic words, Peter suddenly redoubled his efforts and decided that he’d never needed anything more in his life than making that happen. He sucked Steve down until he gagged and pulled back just to do it again, caring only about Steve’s pleasure and making him lose it all by himself. His hand worked what his mouth couldn’t and he didn’t stop until Steve began trembling and stuttering and suddenly wrenched Peter’s head back just in time for his come to splash over his face and neck, staining his shirt and just enough landing on his open mouth to give him a real taste. 

It all happened so fast, Peter was left dazed as he sat there on his knees, staring up at Steve with his face marked up and body thrumming with desire of his own. Steve was panting, coming down from his high slowly as he reached down and tugged Peter up by his hair, until he was settled back into Steve’s lap. 

Tripping his fingertips through the mess on Peter’s face, Steve shook his head in what seemed like awe and murmured, “God, look at you. So fuckin’ beautiful like this, such a good boy for me. So, so good, baby.”

All but preening under his praise, Peter happily let Steve bring his fingers to his lips and sucked them off, Steve cleaning him up that way until it wasn’t quite cutting it anymore. Then Steve grabbed his discarded shirt and used it to wipe Peter clean the rest of the way before pulling him in for a deep, filthy kiss that Peter felt all the way in his toes. 

“Turn around for me,” Steve murmured, and Peter moved to obey him so fast Steve had to chuckle. Once Peter was settled against him, back to Steve’s chest, Steve began to slowly undo each button of Peter’s shirt while peppering lazy kisses all along his neck. Peter closed his eyes and let Steve handle him, let him peel off his shirt and then get to work on his jeans, opening them up just enough to pull out his cock and give it some of the attention it so desperately needed. 

Steve’s hand wrapped around him was hot and firm and so, so much better than his own, and every slow stroke felt like so much more on Peter’s oversensitive nerves. His neck and shoulder burned pleasantly from the scratch of Steve’s beard as he kissed him all over, but he craved even more contact and turned his head towards Steve and whined just barely audibly until Steve’s lips were back on his. 

“Gotta use your words from now on, okay baby?” Steve murmured after, brushing their noses together. “When you want something, ask me for it.”

“Yes sir,” Peter nodded quickly. “It’s just - I just - hard to talk when I’m so...”

“Overwhelmed?” Steve supplied, giving Peter’s cock a gentle squeeze and pulling a little yelp out of him. “I understand. But you gotta be a good boy and try for me. Can you do that, Peter?”

“Yes sir,” Peter half-moaned, rolling his hips up into Steve’s hand as it began to move just a little faster. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

“I know you will,” Steve purred, kissing him again and letting his free hand roam Peter’s chest, teasing at already-hard nipples. “Always so good for me, aren’t you, baby boy?”

Peter simply moaned and slipped his hand back into Steve’s hair, needing an anchor as he let the sensations and Steve’s words wash over him. “Wanna be good,” he managed to get out, body writhing and face burying itself against Steve’s. “Wanna be your good boy.”

“Yeah?” Steve groaned, fist working faster and harder. “Wanna be Daddy’s good boy, huh? Make Daddy happy?”

The second those words hit Peter’s ears, he was done for. His mind went blank and he came all over himself with a cry of  _Daddy_ on his lips, though he barely noticed in the wake of possibly the most intense orgasm of his life thus far. It felt like it went on forever, propelled into eternity by Steve calling himself _Daddy_ and Peter  _Daddy’s good boy. _It was everything he’d never known that he needed, and it was exceedingly clear even in the exquisite afterglow... Steve had  definitely just awoken something in him. 

And as Peter laid back against Steve’s chest, half naked and a debauched mess, Steve simply kissed his cheek and rubbed comfortingly at his sides, letting him come back down at his own pace. Steve was in no rush and Peter appreciated it, as it gave him a moment or two to work up the nerve to address what had just happened. 

“Um... so,” he finally said after what could have been hours for all he knew, “should we... talk about -“

“Let’s get you cleaned up first,” Steve replied decisively, laying a kiss at Peter’s temple. “I’ll go get a bath started.”

Steve then carefully moved Peter on to the couch and got to his feet, heading off towards the bathroom before Peter could even process those words. 

Once Steve was out of sight, Peter blinked. “A bath?”

—

A bath was exactly what Peter found himself in about ten minutes later, up to his neck in luxuriously scented hot water that Steve had not only prepared for him but had physically carried him to and undressed him for. It didn’t feel nearly as silly as Peter might have guessed that it would, and in fact it felt really nice - being taken care of like that and looked after, like he was some... precious thing that deserved such attention. 

And the fact that Steve didn’t leave him in there but rather took a seat next to the tub so that he could bathe Peter himself... yeah, that was unexpected and he wasn’t sure how to handle it, but just like everything else involving Steve, Peter actually kinda loved it. 

But still, he had to ask. 

“Why are you doing this?” Peter asked as he leaned forward in the tub so that Steve could gently wash his back and massage it as he went. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s really nice and I’m definitely enjoying myself, but like... why?”

Steve chuckled. “Well, I guess I just... enjoy taking care of people. I always have.” He paused. “Is this okay? If anything ever makes you uncomfortable -“

“Oh no no, trust me, I’m not uncomfortable,” Peter replied with a smile, looking back at Steve over his shoulder. “Not even a little bit. I was just curious, that’s all.”

Steve smiled back and then tugged Peter back until he was laying back against the tub. Washing his chest now, Steve hummed, “Yeah, I understand. To be honest... you’re so damn sweet, you just... you check off all my boxes, know what I mean?”

Peter furrowed his brows, still smiling as he peered up at Steve. “Not really?”

Steve sighed and set aside the washcloth he’d been using, leaning his arms on the side of the tub. “You’re pretty. You’re smart. You’re fun, and funny. Fuckin’ adorable. Incredibly expressive in bed,” his tone dropped a bit, and Peter blushed, “which I love. Everything about you pulls me in and makes me wanna take care of you. In more than ways than one.”

Peter blinked, working through what all of that might mean. His heart was also about to explode and make him spontaneously combust right there in Steve’s bathtub. “So that... is that part of the... the thing you said? On the couch?”

Steve cocked his head, pretending to be puzzled. “What thing?”

“You know what thing,” Peter smiled a bit nervously. “The... Daddy thing.”

Steve smiled wide, a blush of his own touching his cheeks as he glanced down. “Yeah... probably. I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that, though. Bad kink etiquette, I’m sorry.”

Peter shrugged. “No, it’s okay. Doesn’t bother me or anything. I didn’t even know I was into it until you said it.”

Steve’s grin turned a tad predatory. “Yeah, you sure _seemed_ into it.” Peter sunk down into the water as if it could shield him from Steve’s knowing gaze, and Steve seemed to only find him even more adorable for it. “God, you’re fuckin’ cute.”

“I’m also kinda lonely in here,” Peter pouted, deciding it was worth a shot to try to get Steve in there with him. “Be nice if I had some big strong man to lean against...”

“Oh, would it?” Steve asked, one brow raised. 

Peter nodded, hoping he was giving the puppy dog eyes MJ had mentioned earlier. “Can you come in here and keep me company, Steve?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m already right here.”

“Yeah, but...” Peter bit his lip and looked up at Steve even more pleadingly. “Please,  _Daddy_?”

The playful, easy expression on Steve’s face turned dark and hungry in an instant. “Fucking hell, kid,” he growled, standing up and reaching down to his belt, “you’re already playing dirty.”

Peter smiled triumphantly and watched as Steve stripped, thoroughly enjoying the show. “Can you blame me?”

“No,” Steve sighed once he was naked, eyes roving over Peter pointedly as he began to slip into the water behind him. “Suppose I can’t.”

The tub was just big enough to accommodate them both, and if the fit was a bit tight it certainly didn’t bother Peter any. It gave him all the more reason to snuggle right up with Steve, resting between his legs and in his arms with Steve’s chest serving as a firm and welcome pillow. Peter closed his eyes and sighed, contentment washing over him and making him feel more at peace than he had in a long, long time. 

“Happy now?” Steve asked lightly, kissing the side of Peter’s head. 

“Mhm,” Peter smiled, keeping his eyes shut. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, baby boy,” Steve murmured, hands gliding where they pleased over Peter’s body, soothing him even further. Before Peter knew it he was nearly asleep, breaths evening out and limbs growing heavier, and Steve decided to rather mercilessly jar him back awake by suddenly tickling the hell out of his sides. 

“_What the fuck_! ” Peter yelped and nearly flew out of the tub, splashing like a madman and flailing until he was turned around facing a shamelessly laughing Steve. “I was almost asleep, dude!”

“I know,” Steve replied, still laughing softly as he rubbed his hands over the sides he’d previously tormented. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, suddenly very aware of the way that he was now straddling Steve in the water, how close they were and how very much awake he now was. Peter leaned in closer, hands sliding up from balancing on Steve’s chest to sink into his damp hair as he pouted quite deliberately, “You’re so mean, sir.”

“Aw,” Steve murmured, lips nearly brushing Peter’s as he reached down into the water and gripped Peter’s ass hard, grinding him down and rubbing their cocks together. “I’m sorry, baby. Want me to make it up to you?”

Peter moaned at those words and the fact that Steve was already half hard underneath him. “Yeah I do, Daddy,” he replied sweetly, and a quick little growl left Steve’s throat before their lips crashed together in a deep, already fevered kiss. It seemed effortless for them, more so than Peter could even fathom. Getting lost in Steve and his kiss and his touch somehow felt like the most natural thing in the world, like this had been what he was missing all along. 

It kinda sucked, in a way, because he was positive that it wasn’t like that for Steve. But those thoughts were all too easy to push down and worry about later, especially with Steve’s tongue in his mouth and hands all over him and cock rubbing against his own. 

When Peter broke for air Steve began trailing kisses down his neck, knowing just how to kiss and nip and make him moan. Peter rolled his hips slowly against Steve’s, the still-warm water rustling gently all around them, and even just that bit of friction felt so good Peter was sure he could come from it. But he wanted more this time, and Steve seemed to sense that.

“Tell me what you want, baby boy,” Steve urged lowly, kissing back up until he reached Peter’s ear. His hands found Peter’s ass again, squeezing just hard enough to hurt just right, Peter moaning as Steve licked hotly over a spot that made him shiver every time. 

“Want you,” Peter murmured, “want you to fuck me.”

“Mm,” Steve groaned, “wanna ride me in here? Show me what you got?”

“Please, sir,” Peter all but begged, kissing Steve hard and desperately for emphasis. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Fuck, I know you will,” Steve replied, getting lost in another kiss just as deeply as Peter had until he forced himself to pull away. Then he reached over his shoulder, grabbing behind a bottle of shampoo and producing a condom and a bottle of waterproof lube - because the man liked to be prepared, clearly. “Hold out your hand, baby.”

Peter did as he was told, and he knew what Steve wanted as soon as he poured a generous amount onto his fingers. He didn’t hesitate to reach back and touch himself, keeping his eyes locked with Steve’s as he gently slipped two fingers inside. It wouldn’t take much to get himself ready, considering how he’d been passing the time back at home while waiting for this little rendezvous, but he wanted to make sure and put on a good show for Steve. He arched his back and moaned as he rocked back and forth on his fingers, letting his eyes fall shut but  feeling Steve’s gaze as it roved over him, drinking in the filthy sight of him. 

“Fuck, look at you, baby,” Steve marveled, hands roaming all over Peter’s body as he sat back and watched. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

Peter blushed and steadied himself with his free hand on Steve’s chest, peeking up at him. “No, but you are.”

Steve shook his head, reaching up and pulling a hiss out of Peter as he toyed with a nipple. “How many fingers you taking right now?”

“Two.”

“Take a third,” Steve instructed and Peter obeyed without a second thought, a broken groan leaving his lips as he slipped another finger in. Steve praised him softly, leaning up and kissing him everywhere he could reach until their lips met yet again in a hungry, sloppy kiss. 

And when Peter felt like he might lose it if he didn’t stop soon, Steve broke their kiss and murmured as he hurriedly grabbed the condom and worked it on himself, “Okay, baby, that’s enough. C’mon, get on my cock.”

Letting out a strangled noise of both relief and excitement, Peter let Steve help reposition him until he was sitting snugly in his lap with Steve gently guiding himself inside. In this position Steve felt even bigger than he had the week before, and Peter had to focus on making himself relax and accept the sensations rather than fight them as inch after inch breached him. And once he was fully seated, Steve whispered  breathe and kissed his cheeks, rubbing his back and holding him close and letting him adjust and take his time. Peter clung to him, sweat beading on his forehead as he slowly caught his breath and gathered his wits. 

“You feel so good, baby,” Steve whispered in his ear, “so tight. I can’t get enough of you, you know that?”

Peter raised his head and beamed at Steve with watery, shining eyes, and Steve couldn’t help but smile back and kiss him gently. Then, foreheads presses together, Peter lifted up almost painstakingly slowly and carefully rocked back down, then up again and down again, a little more each time and a little less careful until he was finally truly riding Steve, albeit at a gentle pace. That was when Steve groaned and pulled him in for a searing kiss, and it was all so perfect, so real and so right, that Peter would have stayed like that forever had he been able to. 

“Faster, honey,” Steve said against his lips, and Peter sat up straighter to obey. Peter rocking harder and deeper now, Steve eyes rolled shut and let out a breathless moan, hands wrapped tight around Peter’s hips. “God you’re so fucking good, baby, so good... so sweet for your Daddy, aren’t you?”

Peter whimpered, rhythm faltering for just a moment until he recovered and nodded quickly. This kink was gonna kill him. “Yeah, Daddy,” he replied, voice a little broken. “Just want you to...”

Steve cradled Peter’s cheek with one hand, kissing him and asking, “Want me to what?”

Peter drew a shaking breath, the act of thinking and speaking incredibly hard with Steve inside of him and hitting all the right places over and over, but after a moment he finally managed to whisper, “Just want you to be happy. Wanna make you happy.”

“_Oh_, sweet boy,” Steve sat up and readjusted them, splashing some of the water over the edge with the motion, “_God, come here.”_

Steve all but crushed Peter to his chest, kissing him like mad and taking over their rhythm as he bounced Peter up and down in his lap, thrusting up to go even deeper each time. Peter wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and gladly let him take control, so close to seeing stars he could nearly taste it, wanting Steve to simply wrap him up and  consume him. He knew it was a dangerous way to feel and that he was getting carried away, getting way too damn attached for only having slept with the man twice but he just couldn’t help it. He’d been doomed from the start. 

“Fuck,” Steve gasped, his hips stuttering in their rapid pace, “m’gonna come, baby.” He wrapped his hand around Peter’s straining cock, trapped between them, and stroked him fast and frantic as he growled, “C’mon, come with me, let me feel it.”

Peter gasped as he obeyed, his last orgasm of the night eclipsing his first and leaving him utterly wrecked in Steve’s arms. It was almost too much,  too good  to stand, but he’d never been so damn satisfied in his life. The water in the tub was lukewarm and filthy now but he didn’t care, wrapped up in Steve’s arms and more than ready to sleep off the sex coma he could feel swiftly setting in. 

But Steve had other ideas, as it turned out. He cuddled Peter and passed the moments kissing his neck and shoulder until he couldn’t stand it anymore and carried Peter out of the tub and into the shower to rinse off the mess they’d made. Peter hung on to Steve through it all and Steve didn’t seem to mind one bit, washing him thoroughly and with great care before wrapping him up in a fluffy towel and taking him to bed, setting him down to sit on the edge. 

Peter’s heart soared for a few moments, thinking this meant that he was gonna get to stay the night, but it wasn’t long before Steve shattered that illusion. Steve disappeared into his closet for a moment or two before emerging newly clothed and carrying a white t-shirt and a folded familiar pair of jeans - the ones he’d washed for Peter after they’d made a mess of them their first night together. 

“This is gonna be a little big on you,” Steve said, walking up to the bed and holding the clothes out for Peter. “But it’ll work while I get your shirt washed.”

Peter took the clothes, nodding and trying not to let his disappointment show. He must have done a terrible job, however, considering how Steve knelt down in front of him and asked, “Hey - what’s wrong?”

Peter shook his head. “Nothing.”

Steve gave him a look. “_Peter_.”

He sighed and shook his head, staring at the floor as he muttered, “Really, it’s nothing. I was just kinda hoping you’d let me stay this time.”

A beat of silence, and then a knowing, “Ah.” Steve stood and then sat down next to Peter on the bed. “I see. Listen... it’s not that I don’t want you to stay the night, it’s just -“

“You don’t have to explain,” Peter interrupted, more than a little embarrassed and wishing he was a better liar. “Really. I shouldn’t have -“

“Peter, let me finish,” Steve replied gently but firmly, turning Peter’s face his way to make him look Steve in the eye. “It’s not that I don’t want you to stay. It’s just that this is one of my ways of maintaining boundaries and keeping sex from turning into more.”

Those words felt like yet another blow, but this time Peter made sure that Steve wouldn’t be able to see it. “Okay. Yeah, that makes sense, I guess.”

“I don’t have the... best track record with relationships,” Steve explained with a grim chuckle. “But I like sex, I like companionship. And I like you. Having boundaries... makes it less likely that I’ll end up hurting you. Or vice versa.” Then Steve paused, eyes growing concerned as he looked Peter over. “Were you... under the impression that this was... more than -“

“No,” Peter shook his head. “No, I know. And I’m not looking for anything serious either.” Another lie, but a necessary one. He looked up at Steve and smiled. “I’m just  really tired after all of that.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, me too.” He reached out and ran his fingertips through Peter’s slightly damp, messy hair and asked, “You sure you’re okay?”

Peter answered by closing the distance between them and kissing Steve slowly but with purpose. “I’m fine,” he assured Steve after, pretending his heart wasn’t a little bit wounded. “Don’t know if I’ll be able to sit normal in a chair tomorrow, but...”

Steve grinned and kissed him again, murmuring, “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

Peter chuckled and kissed him back, and the two of them nearly got carried away all over again before Steve broke away and told Peter with a distinct air of forced self control to get dressed for the ride home. Then he kissed his forehead and got up to fetch them both bottles of water from the kitchen, and once Peter was alone and staring at the clothes sitting in his lap, it began to finally dawn on him just how well and thoroughly fucked he truly was. 

He was gonna fall in love with this man - if he hadn’t already - and Steve was never gonna feel the same, never gonna love him back, never even let him stay the damn night at his place. He was gonna push Peter away every time he tried to squeeze a little closer, and one day it was gonna be too much and Steve was gonna send Peter home for good. He could see it all play out in his mind’s eye like a bad movie he never wanted to see, but he knew all the while that it wouldn’t stop him. He was already in too deep - had been from the start - and Steve had him wrapped all around his skilled, tattooed finger. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled and began to get dressed. He might be doomed, but at least he’d enjoy every last step he took with Steve towards his undoing. It would be worth it, he told himself - the sweetest misery he could possibly imagine. 


End file.
